Lilies in Autumn
by little0bird
Summary: Harry and Ginny find themselves in a familiar situation.
1. Slamming Doors, Open Windows

Harry opened his eyes at the buzz of the alarm. It was peaceful early in the morning in the moments before sunrise. He rolled over and brushed tendrils of hair from Ginny's face. He cupped her face and sleepily kissed her, smiling a little as she woke up. Ginny slowly inhaled and stretched arching her body against Harry's. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her over him. Ginny chuckled throatily and slipped her hands into his boxers. He hummed huskily against mouth, his hands sliding down to the hem of her nightdress, gathering the fabric and pulling it up to her hips. 'Daddy!' a voice said next to Harry's ear.

Harry's eyes flew open, and he turned his head to find James standing next to the bed, and indignant expression on his small face. 'Perfect timing as always,' Harry sighed in frustration. 'He's definitely part Weasley.'

'What's the matter, James?' Ginny asked in a resigned voice, tugging the hem of her nightdress down to her knees.

'Albie smells,' the little boy pronounced with obvious disgust on his face.

'All right,' Ginny said, a slight tightness underlying her voice. She looked down at Harry, shifting slightly against him. 'Hold that thought, will you?' she murmured, a wicked glint in her eyes.

'That was not fair,' Harry groaned, as Ginny climbed out of bed, and took James' hand. 'I'll go downstairs and make breakfast.' He paused slowly blew out a long breath. 'In a minute.' He watched Ginny leave the room, listening to James' chatter, willing his pulse to slow to a more normal pace. 'Brilliant,' he muttered. It had been weeks since he'd made love with Ginny, and every time they tried, something came up, or they'd been so tired they fell asleep before anything could happen. He rolled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. With a baleful glare at the cold water tap in the bathtub, Harry twisted it on, and dropped his t-shirt and boxers on the floor, ducking into the frigid water. He wondered how on earth Molly and Arthur had managed to have seven children. Shivering, he turned off the water, and grabbed a towel from the shelf, rubbing his hair dry. He wrapped it around his waist and brushed his teeth. 

_Teddy's not coming this weekend…_ _I wonder if Molly and Arthur would be willing to take the boys for the weekend…_

'The Cannons are playing the Harpies tonight,' Ginny commented as she pulled her nightdress over her head. 'I ought to be home early.'

'Really?' Harry spit a mouthful of foam into the sink. 'That has possibilities.'

'Got plans for a wild party?' Ginny laughed, as she stepped into the shower.

'If you only knew,' muttered Harry, rinsing his toothbrush.

A wail came from one of the boys' rooms. 'Mummeeeeee!' cried Albus. Harry darted out of the bathroom, one hand clamped on the towel, trying to keep it from sliding off his hips. He found Albus in James' room, sitting on the floor, crying in anger, his pudgy fists clinging to a bright yellow lorry, as 

James tried to yank it from his younger brother's determined grasp. 'Dahdeeeee,' Albus howled when he saw Harry standing in the doorway. 'Laweeeeeee.'

'This is way too early in the morning for this,' Harry grumbled. 'James, let Al play with the lorry, all right?'

James eyebrows knit in irritation. 'No,' he said, increasing the force of his pulls. His eyes darkened in annoyance at Albus.

Harry sighed, and tightening his grip on his towel, bent to pick up the toy. 'It's mine, now.'

'Can't do that, Daddy!' James stated mulishly.

'Watch me,' Harry muttered, tucking the lorry under his arm.

'Telling Mummy.' James ran out of his room and down the corridor into Harry and Ginny's bedroom.

Albus had gotten to his feet and toddled over to Harry. 'Up, Dahdee!' he demanded, his tiny hands stretched up, grasping the edge of the towel. The haphazard wrapping job Harry had done unraveled and the towel slid down his legs and landed in a heap on Albus' head. Albus giggled while Harry pulled the towel off his head.

'That's why you always put on boxers before trying to untangle the two of them,' Ginny said from the door, James at her side. 'Nice view, though,' she added, giving his bare bum an admiring glance. 'Or maybe that dressing gown Hermione gave you for your birthday,' she suggested, regretfully swathing his hips in the damp towel, and kissing the back of his neck. 'I'll finish getting the boys dressed. You go put some clothes on, and make breakfast.'

Harry set the lorry on a shelf and trudged to the bedroom. It wasn't even eight yet, and he could add one disturbed shag session, one cold shower, a million thoughts about Ginny that could get him punched by all of her brothers, despite the fact they'd celebrated their seventh anniversary in September, one smelly nappy, one sibling argument, and one dropped towel. He yanked on some fresh clothing, and went down to the kitchen to make porridge.

Ginny came into the kitchen, with Albus in her arms, and James trailing behind her. 'Going into the office today?' she asked.

Harry ladled porridge into bowls. 'Some. I have a few investigations to check on, and a trainee class to teach. When do you have to go to Wales?'

'Three. Four at the latest.'

Harry stirred his porridge idly. 'I can be home by two.'

Ginny put Albus into his high chair. 'Maybe we can ask Ron and Hermione to watch the boys tomorrow afternoon?'

'Maybe.'

'Oh, there's no maybe,' Ginny declared, pouring juice into two cups, fitting a no-spill lid over one of them. 'It's been years,' she huffed. 'A girl's got needs, you know.'

Harry blinked. 'Oh. Well…' He poured water from the teakettle into the teapot. 'I'll go by the shop on my way in,' he promised.

'You'd better,' Ginny told him. 'I have a wand, and I'm not afraid to use it.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Harry murmured, his mind spinning with plans. He left for work soon after breakfast, stopping in Arthur's office. 'Arthur, could you and Molly do something for Gin and me this weekend?'

'Of course.'

'Could you watch the boys this weekend?' Harry asked in a rush, desperation evident on his face. 'Please?'

Arthur grinned widely, recognizing the desperation. 'Oh, sure. Molly's mother would watch the boys for us a few times a year.' A glint came into his eyes. 'It's how we ended up with Percy, the twins, Ron, and Ginny.' Arthur chuckled. Harry twitched, wondering if Arthur shared his wife's ability to read their children's thoughts. 'I'll come to the house with you and take them home with me tonight.'

'Thank you,' Harry breathed fervently.

* * *

Ginny walked up to the house, the frosty ground crunching under her shoes. She'd been ready to scream when James barged into the bedroom that morning. Spontaneous sex had been relegated to a memory lately. 'Nine more years,' she sighed, wondering if her parents had counted the weeks until they all left for school. 'Ten if you count Al…' She opened the door into the kitchen, dropping her bag next to the door, and toeing her shoes off. It was awfully quiet. Almost too quiet. 'Harry?' she called. 'I'm home!' No answer. 'Jemmy? Albie?' Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket and approached the door leading to the sitting room. It opened when her hand was mere inches away from the doorknob.

'How was the game?' Harry asked.

'Short.' Ginny slid the wand back into her pocket. 'I almost hate to see Ron get excited about the new season, then watch his hopes get brutally dashed to bits the first game.' She looked behind Harry. 'Why is it so quiet in here?'

Harry put his arms around Ginny. 'Well, I convinced your mum and dad to watch James and Albie until Sunday. I set the table in the dining room. I used the china Andie gave us for our wedding and the nice tablecloth Seamus gave us. And, I even used the silver my parents left me.'

'Wow,' Ginny said, impressed. 'What's the occasion?'

'Do we have to have one?'

'Not at all.' Ginny shed her coat, draping it over the banister of the staircase. 'What else have you got planned for us this weekend?'

'Finishing what we started this morning, before _your_ son interrupted us,' Harry said pointedly.

'Why is James _my_ son all of a sudden…?' Ginny headed for the seldom-used formal dining room.

'I had to take a cold shower this morning. He's your son.'

'Fine, what else?' Ginny sat down in the chair Harry held out for her.

'Anything you want.'

'Oh, my,' Ginny breathed.

'Thought we could go flying tomorrow afternoon.'

'I'd like that.' She surveyed the array of food on the table. 'You were busy today.'

Harry shrugged. 'I had some time.' He lifted the lid off a dish.

'You made coq au vin! I love coq au vin…' Ginny eyed Harry speculatively. 'Mr. Potter, you're trying to seduce me.'

'Just a little…' he admitted.

Ginny giggled. 'No worries. I'm a sure bet.'

'Are you hungry at all?' Harry asked in a strangled voice.

Ginny looked up to find Harry staring at her hungrily. 'Not right now.' She smiled at Harry's sharp intake of breath. She took out her wand and waved it over the table. 'Dinner'll keep.'

* * *

Harry lay on his back breathing heavily. 'Yeah. That was bloody brilliant,' he panted.

'Afraid you were going to forget how to do that?' Ginny asked from the opposite end of the bed, sounding breathless.

Harry grabbed Ginny's ankle and pulled her up to the head of the bed. 'If I ever forget how to do that, you have my permission to repeatedly send Bludgers at my head.' He rolled over and kissed Ginny deeply. Her stomach rumbled. 'Hungry?' he asked.

'Mmm-hmmm. Famished.' She nipped his earlobe playfully.

'Well, we do have a nice dinner downstairs,' mused Harry.

'We should go downstairs and eat it,' Ginny yawned. 'We never get to eat dinner in there. We can have a meal like civilized people.'

'A meal where we don't have to wipe someone else's face,' Harry said wistfully.

'Candles…'

'Adult conversation…'

Ginny rolled off the bed and snagged her dressing gown from the floor, where it had fallen earlier. 'Sounds like a good idea to me,' she told Harry, pulling the silk over her shoulders.

Harry sat up, and slid off the bed, and rummaged in the trail of discarded clothing for his boxers. He found a clean pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and followed Ginny back down to the dining room. 'I could get used to this.'

'So could I,' Ginny said, as she used her wand to light the tapers in the middle of the table.

* * *

Harry levitated a tray up to the bedroom, setting it down on the foot of the disheveled bed. 'When was the last time we got to sleep past eight in the morning?'

'Since before James was born.' Ginny pushed herself into a sitting position, and piled the pillows against the headboard.

Harry handed Ginny a cup of tea. 'So, still up to go flying today?'

'Separate brooms?' Ginny asked.

'Yeah. We can play a little Quidditch.'

'Just the two of us?' she asked askance.

'We can just use the Snitch.' Harry sipped his tea. 'Love watching you play Seeker…' His eyes darkened several shades. 'Such a turn-on.'

'That's not a fair contest,' Ginny objected. 'You're so much better at that than I am.'

'I'm out of practice!'

'You are not,' scoffed Ginny.

'I am, too,' Harry objected.

'All right, then,' Ginny pronounced. She threw the bedding off and began to dress, layering an old jumper over a t-shirt, and pulling on a pair of worn jeans. 'Arm and shin guards are in the scullery,' she told Harry, as she drew on her socks and a pair of boots. As she tied the laces tightly, she got to her feet. 'See you in the back garden.'

Stunned, Harry sat on the bed for a moment, then jumped off, grabbing his abandoned jeans from the previous night, yanking them on, before he found an ancient sweatshirt that he donned as he ran down the stairs after Ginny. He shoved his feet into his trainers that he had left at the back door when he had arrived home the day before. Harry darted into the scullery to grab his arm and shin guards that he used for the family games on Sundays, before he pulled on his coat.

Stumbling into the back garden, he found the broom shed wide open, and Ginny's precious Firebolt already removed from its hooks. Harry snatched his broom down from the hooks, and he threw the case open that held a set of Quidditch equipment, taking the Snitch from its slot. 'You're rather slow this morning,' Ginny taunted mockingly, hovering over the storage shed.

Harry mounted his broom, and kicked off. 'You didn't mind last night.'

Ginny snorted. 'We weren't playing Quidditch last night.'

Harry opened his fist and released the Snitch into the frosty November morning. 'We are now.'

* * *

'What's the score?' Ginny shouted, as she released the Snitch back into the sky.

'Tied. Twelve all.'

'Winner takes all on this one?' she suggested.

'Absolutely.' Harry's eyes narrowed as he flew in circles, searching for a glint of gold in the sun. He began to climb higher, aware of Ginny trailing closely behind him. 'You're not going to get it before I do!' he shouted over his shoulder.

'Watch me!' Ginny urged her broom forward and shot in front of Harry, effectively blocking him. She suddenly pulled the broom handle up and looped over Harry, righting herself and streaking across the clearing. Her fingers closed around the Snitch and with a shout of triumph, she sent the broom spiraling toward the ground.

No sooner than she had landed, Harry pushed her against the broom shed, his mouth slanting over hers in urgent demand. 'That was bloody brilliant,' he muttered, his hands roving under her jumper.

'Inside,' gasped Ginny. Harry began to walk backward toward the house, tearing his mouth from Ginny's to glance over his shoulder. She reached around him to open the door, and once they were inside, he kicked the door closed. No sooner than the door slammed shut, they began to work their way from the layers of clothing, sending shoes, jumpers and Quidditch equipment about the kitchen in wild abandon. Harry picked Ginny up and perched her on the kitchen table. She slid back, knocking the teapot to the floor with a crash.

'We'll fix it later,' Harry growled, trying to work her jeans off.

Neither of them heard someone Floo into the sitting room.

* * *

Ron tumbled to the hearth rug in Harry and Ginny's sitting room. He and Hermione had just found out she was carrying a boy the day before. Hermione had discovered she was pregnant two months earlier. They hadn't even been trying, and considering their difficulties in conceiving Rose, they had both received the news with a large measure of shock. Hermione was riddled with doubts about having another baby so soon after Rose, and now that they knew she was going to have a boy, she was feeling slightly frazzled. She kept repeating, 'But I don't _understand_ boys…' at odd moments since they walked out of the hospital.

The sound of something breaking, sent Ron scurrying toward the kitchen, his wand drawn and held aloft. He eased the door open a bit, and the sounds of guttural moans drifted toward him. Pushing the door open completely, Ron was confronted with the sight of his baby sister and best friend entwined on their kitchen table, in various stages of undress. 'Bloody hell!' Ron bellowed.

'What the –' Harry scrambled off Ginny, scrabbling for his t-shirt, and throwing it at her. He seized his jeans from the floor and yanked them on, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste.

Ginny perched on the edge of the table, now clad in Harry's t-shirt, nearly spitting like an angry cat. 'Merlin, Ron! Don't you ever knock, you bloody wanker?'

Ron flushed a deep magenta, which clashed horribly with his hair. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. 'Sorry,' he mumbled, shoving his wand back into his pocket, and spinning around. He fled the kitchen and was digging in the flowerpot for a handful of Floo powder.

Harry followed him. 'Ron, wait.'

'Look, I'm sorry…' Ron refused to look at Harry.

'It's okay…'

'Like hell it is!' Ginny yelled from the kitchen.

'Ignore her,' Harry whispered. 'She'll get over it.'

'I'm not sure I will,' mumbled Ron.

'What's the problem, mate?'

'It's nothing.' Ron threw the handful of powder into the fireplace. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Harry laid a hand on Ron's shoulder. 'Ron, wait…'

'No worries, all right? I'll talk to you later…'

Harry watched helplessly as Ron disappeared in swirl of emerald green flames. He went back into the kitchen to find Ginny still sitting on the edge of the table, her arms crossed over her chest, swinging her feet. 'What was that about?' she asked.

'No idea. He wouldn't say.'

'Your brother-in-law is not my favorite person right now,' Ginny huffed.

'You're talking about your brother, you know…'

'Yes, but I didn't choose to be related to him,' Ginny stated. 'You did.'

Harry leaned down to kiss her. 'Checkmate.'

* * *

A/N: Okay, as promised, I started Lily's story. It shouldn't be as angsty as Making Mistakes.

Hope you like it. :)


	2. It's a Bumpy Ride

'_Your brother-in-law is not my favorite person right now,' Ginny huffed._

'_You're talking about your brother, you know…'_

'_Yes, but I didn't choose to be related to him,' Ginny stated. 'You did.'_

_Harry leaned down to kiss her. 'Checkmate.'_

* * *

'That's what you get for choosing to marry into this barmy family.' Ginny slid her fingers through the belt loops of Harry's jeans, pulling him toward her.

'Part of the package when I married you,' Harry said, pushing her hair away from her neck. 'I'll talk to Ron tomorrow… Where were we…?'

'Right about there,' Ginny murmured.

'That's what I thought,' Harry said, gently pushing Ginny back. 'And while I think you look fantastic in my t-shirt, you look better with it off…'

* * *

Ron blindly walked into the shop, grabbing George by the sleeve. 'I thought this was your Saturday off,' George said, confused.

'It is…' Ron's face was pale under his freckles and his eyes were wide and popping. George privately thought Ron looked as if he were about to vomit.

'Are you all right, bro? You look like you've seen something particularly nasty.'

Ron shook himself a little. 'So Hermione and I found out she's having a boy yesterday, and she's been in a right state since yesterday, and I don't know what to say to her, and I thought I'd go see Harry, and maybe he's got an idea…' Ron took a deep breath and kept talking. 'And you know, it's a Saturday afternoon, and I thought, "Well, what could Harry be doing on a Saturday afternoon?" He's got two kids under the age of four for Merlin's sake! I didn't expect to find Harry shagging Ginny on their bleeding kitchen table!' he yelled.

'I hope Ginny throws a nice Scouring charm over that table then, before Katie and I have dinner with them again…' George mused.

'But…' Ron spluttered. 'They were shagging!'

'How did you manage to walk in on them, anyway?' George demanded.

Ron sighed, and released George's sleeve. 'I Flooed over, and heard something crash in the kitchen, and something that sounded like moaning in pain…'

'And you went headlong into the kitchen?' George guessed.

'Yeah…' Ron slumped against the counter.

George chewed a hangnail thoughtfully. 'How far were they…?'

Ron went a few shades paler. 'They hadn't actually…' He coughed a few times. 'You know…'

George threw a look over his shoulder at the photograph of him with Fred. _It's a shame Fred can't be here to see this_. _He'd never let Ron hear the end of it…_ He clapped Ron on the shoulder. 'Go home, bro. And don't tell Hermione. Gives her too much to hold over you when you're acting like a prat.'

'But…'

'And I'm sure Harry and Ginny would like to forget it ever happened, too.'

'I hope so,' Ron muttered miserably, heading for the door to Apparate home.

'Hey, Ron?' George asked. 'What's wrong with having a boy?'

'I dunno. She just keeps saying that she doesn't understand boys.'

George raised an eyebrow into the fringe that flopped over his forehead. 'Is she mad?'

'She's always barking when she's pregnant,' grumbled Ron.

'They all are,' George said, waving a hand dismissively. 'But I don't see how she can think she doesn't understand boys… She did such a good job raising you and Harry.'

Ron gaped at him open-mouthed. 'There's a compliment in there.' He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at George. 'I think.'

'She'll be fine. You, on the other hand…' George snickered and cuffed Ron on the back of the head. 'You might not be able to join the family for a do any time soon.'

'Kick a bloke while he's down…' Ron muttered. 'I'll see you at lunch tomorrow.' He walked out the door and Apparated to his flat.

* * *

Ron scribbled the name Marcus on the list, squinting at it dubiously. 'Are you sure?'

'What's wrong with Marcus? It works well with Weasley,' Hermione said defensively.

'Well, yeah, but don't you remember Marcus Flint?'

'Oh, right…' Hermione sighed, and rubbed her expanding stomach. 'Scratch it off.'

'Are all Slytherin names off limits?' Ron asked, chewing on the end of the quill.

'Just the ones that make either of us want to vomit.'

Ron eyed Hermione. 'The way you've been going that's every name.' He tapped the quill against the parchment. 'Still want to keep your dad's name off the list?'

'Yes,' Hermione said shortly. 'What about…?' She flipped through a book of baby names. 'Joseph? We can call him Joey…'

Ron made a face, but he didn't have a good argument against it, so he dutifully wrote the name down. 'What about Hugo?' he asked suddenly.

'As in the author of _Les Misérables_?'

'Lay what?'

Hermione smiled. '_Les Misérables_. A novel by Victor Hugo. He was French. Dad and I read it together the summer after our first year of school.'

Ron shook his head. 'Remember when you were in the hospital before Rose was born?'

'Worst night of sleep I've ever had. Kept having the strangest dreams about the baby.'

'Yeah, so did I. I had one and you called him Hugo…' One side of Ron's mouth tilted up in a slight grin. 'You were so proud of him.'

'Remember the rest of the dream?' Hermione asked curiously.

'No,' Ron said quickly. Too quickly, because Hermione gave him a look, but she let it pass. The truth of the matter was, he remembered it all too well. It still gave him shivers if he thought about it. Because of that, he was even more careful in the shop than before.

'Are you feeling all right?' Hermione peered at Ron closely. 'You've been awfully quiet all afternoon.'

He shrugged. 'I'm fine, hen.'

Their conversation was interrupted by Rose toddling into the sitting room, a large brightly colored book clutched in her hands. She wobbled to the sofa, holding the book out to Hermione. 'Read, Mummy!' she demanded.

Hermione lifted Rose to the sofa, nuzzling the vivid curls that stood out in a bright halo around her head. 'What do you have, Rose-bud?' Hermione pried the book from Rose's pudgy fingers. '_Where the Wild Things Are_, eh? Good choice,' she told her daughter approvingly. 'The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind…' she began. Rose's cheeks turned pink with delight at having someone read to her. She could be found on Sundays, roaming from one aunt or uncle to another, clutching a small bag loaded with books, begging for them to read to her when the weather was too bad for her to zip around the garden on her prized toy broom. The story complete, Rose slid off the sofa, and took the book from her mother.

Hermione watched her disappear down the corridor. 'What are we going to do with a _boy_?'

'The same thing we do with Rosie?' Ron suggested.

'But _boys_… They're… They're… _Boys_!'

'I give up…' Ron muttered.

* * *

Ginny's head rested against Harry's shoulder drowsily in the sultry warmth of the bath. 'Back to reality tomorrow…' she sighed. 'We are the world's worst parents.'

'Why?'

'Because we take what every chance we can get to fob off our children on someone else so we can spend a weekend shagging.'

'Not like we do that every weekend,' Harry said languidly, prodding the surface of the water with his wand, bringing the temperature up several degrees. 'You'd have a point if we did that…' He tightened his arms around Ginny's waist. 'This is the longest we've been alone in weeks.' He shifted them both under the water a bit more. 'Are we done? With kids, I mean.'

'I keep telling you, if you want to have another one, you're going to give birth.' Ginny turned her head to look at Harry. 'It's still an option, another baby,' she admitted. 'I haven't completely ruled it out yet, but I'd like to get a few more years between Albie and another one. I don't think I can handle having two in nappies at the same time again. Thank Merlin James finally got the hang of the toilet.'

'Not always,' Harry reminded her.

'I'll take an occasional accident over the nappies any day.' Ginny pressed a kiss to the underside of Harry's jaw. 'Albus'll be two in June. Let's wait another year after that, and we can talk about having another baby then. All right?'

Harry nodded. 'All right.'

They soaked for several more minutes before Ginny spoke. 'It's too bloody quiet without them here.'

'Yeah, it is… You get used to the little buggers.'

* * *

Ginny tumbled from the fireplace at the Burrow, greeted Charlie, who waved absently at her while he sketched Rose with her nose in a book, and headed for the kitchen. 'Hiya, Mum,' she said.

Molly surveyed Ginny, and nodded once. 'Good weekend, I take it?'

'Restful, at any rate,' Ginny replied with a laugh. 'Where are the boys?'

'In the back with George and Bill.'

'Were they any trouble?' Ginny began to set the table for lunch.

'Of course not.' Molly wiped her hands on her apron. 'Is Ron all right? He seems a little off today.'

Ginny froze, a plate hovering over the table. She could feel her face grow warm. 'Haven't a clue, Mum,' she said casually. 'Maybe Harry knows.'

'Maybe Harry knows what?' Harry asked, coming in the back door, holding Albus upside down.

'Is anything the matter with Ron?' Molly asked. 'He's awfully quiet today.'

Harry turned his gaze to Ginny, who was carefully placing a knife and fork at each place on the table, studiously avoiding Molly's eyes. 'No idea,' he said, clearing his throat.

At that moment, Ron burst into the kitchen. He took one look at Harry and Ginny and fled, his face going red.

Molly tasted the lamb stew and looked at Harry and Ginny. 'Somehow, I don't think the two of you are telling me everything.'

Harry handed Albus to Ginny. 'I'll go talk to him…'

Molly eyed Ginny with a gleam in her eye. 'Mind telling me what that was all about?'

'Ron ought to learn how to knock,' Ginny mumbled, wiping a smudge from Albus' nose.

Harry followed Ron up the stairs to his old bedroom in the attic. Ron was pacing across the floor, muttering under his breath. Harry leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 'If it makes you feel better, James inherited your sense of timing.'

Ron threw him a vicious look. 'Not especially.'

'You mum and dad had the boys for the weekend, and we weren't expecting anybody.'

'Obviously,' Ron growled.

'We have been married for seven years, you know. And she lived with me for a year before we got married,' Harry said pointedly. 'Honestly, how do you think we managed to have two kids?'

'I like to think you found them under a Flutterby bush,' Ron spat.

'Ron, come on… What's the problem?'

'It was the middle of the day!' Ron burst out. 'And I needed to talk to you!'

'Well, I'm here now,' Harry said mildly, knowing he would have to wait for Ron to settle down.

Ron sat heavily on the edge of the old bed, resting his head in his hands. 'We're having a boy,' he mumbled.

Harry joined him on the mattress. 'I thought you wanted a boy.'

'I do, but it's Hermione. She says she doesn't know what to do with a boy.'

'Same thing you'd do with a girl, I imagine,' Harry mused.

'That's what _I_ said, but nooooo. She won't believe me.'

'She'll get used to it.' Harry paused. 'Eventually.'

Ron sighed. 'Yeah. I just don't know what to tell her.' He ran his hands through his hair. 'On the kitchen table? Really?'

'If it makes you feel better, I got a splinter in my hand,' Harry said.

'A little.' Ron grinned, but he wouldn't quite meet Harry's eyes. 'Just get a new table before you have Hermione and me over for dinner again, would you?'

They filed down the stairs into the kitchen, where Molly and Katie were dishing up the stew. 'Really, Hermione,' Katie said, as she placed a bowl of stew in front of Jacob. 'It's not any different having a boy than it is a girl.' She looked at Harry and Ron coming through the door. 'Besides, look at how well you did with those two,' she added, gesturing toward them with a spoon.

'It's true,' Ginny piped up, mashing up carrots and potatoes for Albus. 'Ron wouldn't have learned table manners if it weren't for you.'

Harry sat down next to James, tucking a serviette into the collar of the boy's shirt. 'I could swear there's a compliment in there, but I'm not sure what it would be…'

* * *

Ginny opened her eyes to find Harry's face hovering inches over hers. She yelped in surprise and fell off the sofa. 'I _was_ sleeping,' she said, sitting up and rubbing the spot on her hip where she'd landed.

'Are you feeling all right?' Harry asked. 'You've been sleeping an awfully lot lately.'

'I'm fine,' Ginny insisted. 'It was a very long game last night, and I didn't get home until after midnight. And Albie and James got started early this morning.'

'Are you sure? It's not just been the game last night. You've been going to bed early for two weeks now.'

'Two toddlers ring a bell?' Ginny asked, scooting back onto the sofa. 'Honestly, I feel fine. I feel great, actually,' she assured him with a smile.

Harry studied Ginny for several moments, trying to place that sparkly look on her face. _When was the last time I saw that?_ he wondered. He was positive he'd seen it before, just not on Ginny. 'If you say so…' He dropped to the sofa next to her. 'The boys both have had baths and they're down for the night.'

'I missed it?' Ginny asked in dismay. She loved putting the boys to bed when they were fresh from their baths, looking angelic.

'I didn't want to wake you up.'

'Well, wake me up next time.'

Harry murmured something noncommittal, as he put an arm around Ginny, watching the fairy lights on the tree twinkle in the dim sitting room. He looked sideways at Ginny for a moment, unable to shake the idea that he'd seen that particular look before. Frowning, he gave up trying to be subtle and outright stared at her. 'What?' she asked. 'Do I have something on my face?'

Harry shook his head. 'You just look…' He bit his lip searching for the best word. 'Radiant.'

Ginny's face lit up in a smile. 'Thanks. But you ought to get your eyes examined. You need new glasses. It's just the lighting.'

'I just got my eyes examined…' Harry began. 'My glasses are fine…' he trailed off, a dusty memory surfacing of Hermione telling him how bad his eyesight was when she had impersonated him under Polyjuice with other members of the Order. _Tonks!_ _That's where it's from… _'You're pregnant!' he blurted.

Ginny began to laugh. 'Oh, don't be ridiculous.'

'Uh-huh. You're pregnant!' he said accusingly.

'I'm not pregnant,' Ginny replied.

Harry squinted at her. 'Don't move,' he ordered, before running to the kitchen to fetch his coat.

'Nothing's open in the village!' Ginny called.

'I'll go to Taunton, then,' Harry said, skidding back into the sitting room, shoving his arms into his coat. 'Don't go anywhere!'

'What are you doing?' Ginny asked, growing annoyed.

'I'm going to prove you're pregnant.' Harry flung the front door open, and Disapparated with a loud _crack_. Ten minutes later, he ran back inside the house, and threw a small bag with the Tesco logo at Ginny.

'And what am I supposed to do with this?' Ginny said loftily, pulling the bright blue box from the bag.

'The same thing you did the last two times we did this,' Harry retorted impatiently.

'Fine,' Ginny huffed. 'If it'll get you off my back about it. But I'm going to warn you, it will be negative.' Ginny started to go upstairs to their bedroom. 'And why? Because I'm _not_ pregnant, you daft git.'

'Want to bet on it?' Harry responded.

Ginny stopped on the stairs. She turned to face Harry, two steps below. 'All right,' she said evenly. 'If I'm right, you have to take the boys somewhere next Saturday and I get the house to myself for the afternoon.'

Harry took a moment to consider her offer, and nodded in agreement. 'And if I'm right, we're going to find out if we're having a boy or a girl.'

'Fine. Because we both know I'm right,' Ginny sniffed, flouncing up the stairs. She sashayed into the bathroom, planning her boy-free Saturday afternoon. She hummed as she set the test on the edge of the sink and joined Harry on the foot of the bed. 'In two minutes, you are going to feel so foolish,' she informed her husband, who merely snorted, and tilted his wrist to watch the seconds tick by.

'Time's up,' Harry said, as the second minute passed. He slid off the foot of the bed and gestured to the bathroom door. 'After you.'

Ginny strolled into the bathroom and looked down at the small plastic stick on the sink, with the utter confidence of someone who _knew_ they were right. She stared down at the sink, feeling decidedly gobsmacked. 'Bloody, effing hell…' she breathed. 'How? When? How?'

Harry decided now was most definitely not the time to gloat, steered Ginny back to the foot of the bed. 'Well, I think we can say that "when" was that lost weekend last month.'

Ginny nodded wordlessly, her mouth hanging slightly open.

'And how…' Harry took a deep breath. 'Well, you see, Gin, when a man and a woman love each other…' He was cut off by Ginny's elbow driving between his ribs.

'I know _how_, git. I mean, how could this happen? We were careful. We used condoms. Every time.'

'Nothing's one hundred percent foolproof, Gin.'

'B-b-b-b-but…' Ginny spluttered. 'It's supposed to _work_. That's its job…' Ginny said helplessly.

'Didn't you ever read the fine print on the box?' Harry asked curiously.

'Did you?' Ginny snapped.

'Uh… Yeah. I mean, it's slight, but it happens.'

'We've been using them for years,' Ginny protested. 'The only time we forgot when James was conceived.'

'Um. Hi. Remember Albus? It broke that time.'

'But we did everything we were supposed to,' Ginny said weakly. 'And nothing went wrong this time.'

'Doesn't always have to go wrong.'

'Five years.' Ginny shook her head. 'Five years before we had James, nothing. Not even the whiff of a scare.'

'Are you upset?' Harry asked with a small amount of trepidation. He had vivid memories of the day she had found out she was pregnant with Albus.

'I don't know.'

'Are you happy?'

'I don't know.'

'Are you –' Harry was cut off by Ginny's reply.

'I just need some time… I wasn't expecting to go through all this again for another two years, at least.' Ginny flopped back onto the bed. She reached for Harry's hand. 'Harry?'

Harry leaned back until he lay next to Ginny. 'Yeah?'

'How are we going to do this?'

Harry brought Ginny's hand up to his mouth, and kissed the back of it gently. 'The same way we've done everything else, love.'

* * *

A/N: The last bit takes place 3 days before Christmas. The first chapter and the first half of this are mid-November.

Ron's dream is in chapter 16 of Burning Down the House.


	3. Asking For Trouble

Harry blindly reached across the bed for Ginny. It was cold, and Ginny produced enough heat while she was sleeping so that it reminded Harry of sleeping with a hot water bottle. Of course, she made up for it by putting her cold hands and feet all over him when she was conscious. 'Gin?' He sat up, reaching for his glasses. She wasn't in their bedroom. Sighing, Harry pushed the bedding back and swung his feet to the floor. 'Ginny?' He went down the corridor, the carpet runner muffling his footsteps. He checked on James then Albus. Both were asleep, and Ginny wasn't in either of their rooms. She wasn't in the room where Teddy slept when he came to spend time with them on the weekends and holidays. He heard a muted _thump_ from the attic and frowned. The door that hid the narrow stairs that led to the attic was slightly ajar, and Harry swiftly went up the stairs to investigate.

Ginny knelt among a welter of cartons, their contents spilling over the sides. She looked up when the floor creaked under Harry's feet. 'Where is Teddy going to sleep?' she asked softly.

Harry crouched next to Ginny. 'He'll be going to school in a little over a year. We can figure out something until then and when he's home for holidays. We can have the boys double up and Teddy can sleep in James' room, or Albus and the baby can share. We can put the baby in with us.'

'He's going to feel like he's being pushed out…'

'Ginny, we've got months before the baby comes,' Harry said, trying to pacify her. 'We'll explain everything to him before then. Teddy knows we love him.' Harry looked around the attic. 'What are you doing up here at this time of night?'

'Couldn't sleep,' Ginny admitted. 'Started thinking about logistics. It's getting to be a lot complicated around here.' She paused and glanced at Harry. 'I blame you, you know.'

'I know.' He fingered a small jumper that was draped over the edge of one of the cartons. 'Why do have the boys' baby clothes out?'

Ginny shrugged. 'Just sorting through them. What we can keep or what needs to be relegated to dusting furniture.'

Harry poked a finger into a box. 'Most of these are practically brand-new.'

'Yeah.' Ginny dipped a hand into the box and pulled out a fluffy red jumper. 'Mum made this for James his first Christmas.'

'He wore it what? Twice? Before he outgrew it?'

Ginny smiled wistfully. 'Yeah. I think Albie managed to wear it for a month or so before he outgrew it, too.' She carefully folded the tiny jumper and set it on her lap. 'He was so small when he was born…'

'Do you remember the day James learned to climb out of his cot?' Harry grinned ruefully. 'We ripped the house apart looking for him, and ended up finding him in the cupboard in his room, sound asleep.'

'I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown.' Ginny laughed. 'Oh, the first time Albus took something from James. James was so surprised he forgot to make a fuss about it.'

'He's fussed plenty since then,' Harry told her.

'Yes, he has.' Ginny looked at Harry. 'We're going to be okay, aren't we?'

'If we can handle the Dynamic Duo downstairs, your brothers, tyrannical editors, criminals with petty vendettas, and ten year-old godsons, we can handle adding a baby to all of this.'

'Well, when you put it like that…' Ginny reached into the box again, and pulled out tiny Muggle-style sailor suit. 'What's one more thing to the chaos?'

Harry mimicked her actions and dipped a hand into another carton, and fished out a blanket. 'In this family? That's almost asking for trouble…'

Ginny laughed. 'You can say that again.' She held up the outfit. 'I can't believe Albie was ever small enough to fit into this. It's what he wore when I brought him home.' Ginny sniffled as she folded the tiny garment and added to a small pile of things to keep. She saw Harry squint at her suspiciously. 'It's dusty up here,' she said defensively.

He smirked at her. 'Sure, if you say so.'

'I'm actually starting to look forward to this,' Ginny said. 'But I think it's because I'm surrounded by all this baby rubbish, remembering how sweet the boys used to be. And it's forming a blockade around all the crying, fussing, nappies, and general pandemonium.'

Harry carefully folded the blanket and added it to the pile that Ginny had deemed acceptable to keep. 'Are we going to start telling people?'

'I was thinking about that,' Ginny said slowly. 'I want to wait a few weeks.'

Harry felt a flash of irritation. 'Why?'

Ginny's head snapped up at the tone of his voice. 'It has nothing to do with me being upset or because Hermione's pregnant, too,' she said mildly. 'It's just so early. At most I'm only a few weeks along,' she tried to explain. Harry's brows knit in frown. 'What if something happens?' she asked. 'What if we tell everyone I'm pregnant and two weeks later I miscarry?' She toyed with the edge of the sailor collar. 'Like Bronwyn last summer,' she added in a low voice.

Harry's hand drifted to Ginny's and he wrapped his fingers around her cold ones. 'Gin, that was a coincidence. Not even Bronwyn could have predicted that.'

'She wasn't even eight weeks gone,' Ginny whispered. 'I can't be more than a month…' She blinked rapidly and began to bite her lip in an effort to stifle the tears that sprang to her eyes.

Harry pulled Ginny into his lap. 'It's okay,' he murmured into her hair. 'We can wait a while longer.' He could understand Ginny's desire to not jinx anything. Both Charlie and Bronwyn had carried shadowed expressions for months afterward.

'I don't want anything bad to happen,' Ginny said tightly.

Harry's arms tightened around Ginny, his hands laced over her navel. 'We'll wait, then.'

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Ginny absently reached for the teapot in the middle of the table, blinking in surprise when her fingers closed on empty air and not the handle as expected. Harry had snatched it from under her hand. 'You've already had a cup,' he said reprovingly. 'Only one a day.'

'You're joking,' Ginny blurted in disbelief. 'You're turning into the caffeine police already?'

'What's caffin police?' James asked, his mouth full of toast.

'Where Daddy won't let Mummy have more than one cup of tea,' Ginny replied with a scowl at Harry. 'Swallow your food before you talk, James,' Ginny told him.

'Why?'

'Because people don't need to see what you're chewing,' Ginny said patiently.

'Why?' James crammed a piece of bacon into his mouth.

'Because it's gross,' Harry said, wiping bits of egg off James' face.

'Why?'

'Because it's all mushy and gooey.' Ginny picked up Albus' cup and pried the no-spill lid off Albus' cup and poured in more juice, diluting it with water.

'Why?'

'Because that's what happens when you chew food,' Harry answered with a sigh.

'Why?'

'James, eat your breakfast,' Ginny said wearily. 'It too early in the morning for this.'

'Why?'

'Because it's only nine in the morning and Mummy didn't sleep much last night,' Harry said to his offspring, rubbing his forehead.

'Why?'

'Don't you dare say it!' Ginny hissed to Harry, pointing to the back of James' head. 'Remember what happened with Albie? He blurted it out to everyone at the dinner table!'

'Yeah…' Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'So… No talking about the b-a-b-y in front of James.'

'Or Albus,' Ginny cautioned. 'Never know what's going to pop out of their mouths these days.' She Summoned a wet dishcloth from the sink and began the process of wiping Albus' face and hands. He didn't like it, and squirmed ferociously, growling in anger. 'Too bad, chum,' Ginny said unsympathetically, swabbing the smears of strawberry jam from her youngest son's face. 'You're not going to Grandmum's with goo all over you.' She lifted Albus from the high chair and set him on the floor. 'Go to Daddy,' she told him, sending him to Harry with a light swat on his padded bottom.

Albus wobbled across the floor and clutched handfuls of Harry's pajama bottoms in his hands. 'Up, Dahdee!' Albus demanded, tugging a little on the soft flannel.

Harry swung the little boy into his arms. 'And what am I supposed to do with you, eh?' He nuzzled the untidy black hair sticking up wildly around Albus' head.

'Well for starters,' Ginny said, waving her wand at the table, clearing the dishes and setting them to wash themselves. 'You can change his nappy, so I can go take a shower, then I'll get them dressed while you shower.'

'All right,' Harry sighed. 'Come on then, mate. Let's go put a dry nappy on your bum.'

'Bum!' Albus shouted. 'Bumbumbumbumbumbum…' he chanted, bouncing gleefully in his father's arms.

'He says that in the middle of Christmas dinner, I so blame you,' Ginny tossed over her shoulder, as she left the kitchen to go upstairs.

'Could have been worse,' Harry muttered. 'I could have said arse…'

'Ahs!' Albus smiled widely.

Harry shook his head. 'Brilliant…'

* * *

Harry followed Ginny into the kitchen, holding James firmly by the hand. 'Sorry we're late,' he said. '_Somebody_,' he said pointedly, looking down at James. 'Somebody had to feed Ginny's owl too many Owl Treats.'

'It wasn't pretty,' Ginny added, plopping Albus into his high chair.

'Making you re-think that wall-to-wall shag carpeting in the kitchen, eh?' George asked brightly.

'Get stuffed, George,' Ginny muttered, averting her face.

'Then again,' George mused. '_Shag_ isn't very good for the kitchen… Ow!'

'Oh, I'm sorry… Was that your foot?' Katie murmured in a guileless voice.

Undeterred, George plowed on. _Fred wouldn't have let them live this down…_ 'Maybe the two of you can clear the table after,' George said in an undertone to Ginny. 'Bloody heeeeee….' George inhaled sharply and bit off the end of the word.

'Did I kick you?' Ginny asked in honeyed tones. 'I could have sworn it was the table leg.' She glared at George. 'Drop it already, will you?'

George sullenly rubbed his shin under the table. 'Fine. Deny a man his only pleasure.'

'Pardon me?' Katie asked archly.

'Sounds like you're sleeping on the sofa tonight, George,' Charlie said with a grin on his face.

'Seriously,' Bill chimed in. 'Joke's gotten a little stale. Time to move on, bro.'

Percy was eyeing Ron worriedly. Ron had turned green around the edges, and his fingers tightened around his fork. He scooted his chair down a little, lest Ron throw up on him. 'Why does that joke make Ron look like that…?'

Ron shook his head emphatically. 'Nothing, Percy.' He carefully avoided looking at Harry or Ginny.

The table was unnaturally silent.

Until a small voice piped up. 'Mummy? What's shag?' Jacob asked, his sky blue eyes bright with curiosity.

Katie smiled with an expression of smug satisfaction. 'Oh, payback is sweet.' She patted her son on his head. 'Ask Daddy, dearie.'

Jacob turned to his father, who was slowly turning pink. 'Daddy, what's shag?'

Hermione stifled a giggle. 'This is going to be good….'

'Erm… Well… It's…' George tugged at his collar, a slow flush creeping up his neck and face. He looked down to see his younger son staring up at him with avid interest. 'When two people… Uh…'

'It's a carpet, Jacob,' Harry cut in. 'It's fluffy, like Aunt Hermione's kitty.' He glanced up at George. 'You so owe me…' Harry told George.

George blew out a breath. 'Yeah. Thanks, mate.'

'Could we please change the subject?' Molly asked exasperated. 'The table isn't quite the place for this kind of conversation.'

'Thanks, Mum,' Ginny said.

* * *

'Shhhhh.' Harry glanced up at Ginny coming down the stairs early on Christmas morning. He pointed to James, sprawled across the hearth rug, soft snores emanating from his open mouth, the battered black dog he insisted on sleeping with at night, tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Ginny joined Harry on the sofa, tucking her feet under her. 'How long has he been down here?'

'No idea.' Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny. 'I woke up and heard Al start to work up a fuss, so I got up and got him settled back down. I thought I'd look in on James, and he wasn't in his bed. Came down here.'

'Waiting for Father Christmas, eh?'

'Yeah.' Harry smiled a little wistfully, grateful his son could do something as innocent as try to catch Father Christmas delivering gifts.

'Ron used to do that until Fred informed him Father Christmas didn't exist the Christmas Ron was seven. Ron was devastated. Spent the whole day shut up in his room, just absolutely miserable. Didn't even fuss that his jumper was maroon.

'Blimey, he must have been upset if he didn't complain about the jumper.'

'Oh, he was. Refused to talk to Fred for two weeks.'

Harry regarded James for a moment. 'He's not going to believe in the whole Father Christmas thing much longer,' he said with a hint of sadness. 'I never had that luxury…'

'You just hate to see them grow up,' Ginny said.

'Yeah. Wish you could keep them small like that.' Harry tilted Ginny's chin up and kissed her. 'Happy Christmas, Gin.'

'It's going to be a madhouse in here next year.'

'Yeah, it is.' Harry grinned. 'But it'll be fun.'

* * *

'Come on, Rosie… Just rip the paper off…' Ron begged his daughter. 'See? Like this.' He reached over her shoulder and tore a strip off the package she was painstakingly unwrapping.

Rose batted Ron's hand away, clutching the flat box to her chest. 'No! Mine!' she screeched, resuming her meticulous peeling away of the paper.

'She's worse than you are,' he muttered to Hermione, who was looking at him with a smug expression.

'You're being more of a child than she is,' Hermione said, amused. 'What's in that package, anyway?'

'You'd find out if your daughter would open it faster,' Ron complained.

Rose scowled at the box under the paper, her pudgy fingers attempting to pry the lid off the box. She shoved it toward Hermione, her round brown eyes, looking up beseechingly at her mother. 'Mummmeeeee.'

Hermione ran a fingertip under the edge of the lid of the box and lifted just enough of it off, so Rose could complete the task of removing it. 'There you go, Rosie,' she said nudging the box back to Rose.

Rose flung the lid across the sitting room and pulled out a welter of bright orange cloth. Her eyes widened. 'Oooohhhh. Cahn'ns!'

Ron caught Hermione's wry glance. 'What? She outgrew the ones we gave her for her birthday.' The back of his neck reddened under his wife's scrutiny.

Hermione shook her head. 'And you're the one who thought getting things like that for children was rubbish,' she said dryly.

Ron was helping Rose tug the miniature robes over her pajamas. 'This is different,' Ron explained.

'How is it different?'

'Because look how cute Rosie looks,' Ron said, turning Rose around to face Hermione. Rose was a nearly eye-watering sight clad in the lurid orange robes with the black double C logo, her fluffy pink slippers peeping incongruously from under the hem. The ensemble was topped with Rose's flaming red curls.

Hermione smiled at the pair of them – Ron sitting on the floor and Rose standing next to him, both of them wearing wide smiles. 'Very cute,' she said, kissing both of them.

* * *

George crouched down in the snow, a small photograph in his hand. He used his wand to attach it to the headstone in front of him. 'Sophie's just turned seven months old. She looks like Katie. The boys are great. They keep Katie and me on our toes most of the time.' George let a small bark of laughter escape. 'I think they might be more trouble than you and I were.' He brushed his fingers of the words "Mischief Managed". 'It's still not right without you at holidays. It's not nearly as fun to take the mickey out of anyone without you. It's still fun,' he said hastily. 'I don't want you thinking I've lost my touch or anything, mind. Just feels forced sometimes. Like I'm reaching for it.' George shifted slightly. 'You were always better at it than I was.' George's eyes closed against the gently falling flakes of snow. 'It's almost been ten years, and there are still times when I swear I could look up and see you walk through the door of the shop. Sometimes when I'm in there alone, it feels like you're standing next to me and I think I can hear you.' George smiled pensively. 'We do have the same voice.' He paused, his voice catching a little. 'Did have the same voice.' George rubbed his hand over his face. 'See? I still can't think about you in the past tense.' He leaned forward until his forehead rested against the top edge of the headstone. 'I miss you, bro. More than you know. Love you, Fred…' George swallowed heavily, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. With one last glance at Fred's grave, he began to trudge back to the Burrow.

He slipped into the house, hanging up his coat in the scullery, bracing himself as he saw two blurs of energy launch themselves at him from the corner of his eye. He wrapped his arms around them, feeling the weight of the grief the he still carried lessen a little. 'Daddy, Granmum says to come give out pressens,' Fred told him, pulling on his hand.

'All right, I'm coming,' George said, letting Fred and Jacob tow him into the sitting room. He stooped and picked up the first package his hand touched. It was Ron's. He grinned slightly as he heard Fred's voice whisper in his ear. George held the package to his forehead. 'Hmmmmm. I predict this will be… maroon!' He tossed the squashy package to Ron.

Fred wouldn't have stood for anything less.

* * *

A/N: The shag jokes are courtesy of Feff, who graciously allowed me to use them. :)

I'm not sure if British kids wait up for Santa Claus/Father Christmas, but when I was a kid, I tried every year (until I got older and uh, wiser...) to wait up for Santa. :)

And just for Steph, hot cocoa for George's scene.

And I promise (really!) that you're going see more of Teddy.


	4. All Good Things

Ginny spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. She glanced at Harry, brushing his teeth in seeming serenity. Unless you looked at his eyes. The skin around them had tightened into tense creases, and he kept sneaking quick looks at her from the corners of his eyes. 'What?'

He shook his head, cupping a hand under the tap and slurping the water from his cupped palm to rinse the toothpaste from his mouth. 'Nothing.'

'That's not a "nothing" sort of glance,' Ginny told him, rinsing her own toothbrush.

Harry shrugged, avoiding Ginny's gaze. 'Are you sure this is _normal_?'

'What's normal? Brushing our teeth at the same time?'

'No…' Harry wiped the counter dry with a towel and threw it into a basket in the corner. 'This doesn't feel right…'

Ginny started to leave the bathroom, and padded to the bed, turning the quilt back, before climbing in. 'You're going to have to clarify that one,' she said. 'The boys are in bed, sound asleep, the house is locked up and protected… Hermione's doing fine. Nobody's left threatening notes on our doorstep in nearly two years. Mum and Dad are all right, and as far as I know, so is the rest of the family.'

Harry wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts, resting one knee on the bed. 'I was talking about you.' He dropped to the edge of bed.

Ginny looked at him askance. 'What on earth are you on about?' she asked idly, picking up a book, and leafing through it.

'How have you been feeling?'

Ginny ran a hand through her hair, sweeping it away from her face. 'Fine. Great, actually.'

'See!' Harry exclaimed. 'That's not normal.'

'Did you slip on the ice fetching the Muggle post and hit your head?' Ginny asked suspiciously. 'You're not making sense.'

Harry rubbed a hand over his face. 'You haven't been ill at all,' he said patiently.

'And this is a bad thing?' Ginny asked, amused.

'Well, no,' Harry admitted. 'But with Al you were always sick. And when you were carrying James you couldn't even tolerate the smell of certain foods, but this…' He gestured to Ginny's still relatively-flat middle. 'Nothing.'

'Again… This is a bad thing?'

Harry sighed and crawled up to the head of the bed, sliding under the quilt. 'I suppose not.' He toyed with the edge of the sheet.

Ginny laid a hand over Harry's that twisted the sheet, stilling the movements of his fingers. 'What are you really worried about?'

'Who says I'm worried about something?'

'I do.' Ginny gently tugged the sheet from between Harry's fingers. 'You're not worried about me or the baby. Well, you are,' she said hastily when Harry's mouth opened to protest. 'But not like this.'

Harry pulled his glasses off and dropped them on the bedside table before he slid down in the bed, burying his face in his pillow. 'Victor Crabbe and Garrett Goyle are getting out of Azkaban,' he said morosely, his voice muffled by the pillow.

'What's going to happen to them?'

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling. 'Probation. They'll have to get permission from the Ministry to leave the country. They'll have to tell us if they intend to travel in Britain or Ireland. They must register their wand. If they don't, it's an automatic sentence in Azkaban. If they still have a wand, that is. Theirs were destroyed after the war, though.'

'What happens if they use someone else's wand?'

Harry grimaced. 'I'll see it. When I use Legilimency on them.' His face twisted slightly and his nostrils pinched as his stomach heaved. He still hated using Legilimency on Death Eaters, even after a decade. 'They'll get another sentence in Azkaban. If they get caught doing something, like Muggle-baiting, it's Azkaban for life…'

'When are they getting out?'

'In June. We have to prepare their paperwork with MLE before then.'

'But it's only January.'

'And MLE operates at the general pace of treacle in February,' Harry retorted.

Ginny's lips twitched. 'That's an image I didn't need,' she murmured. She could picture the Wizengamot as blobs of partially-frozen treacle, oozing around the Ministry. It was rather fitting, given their conservative nature.

Harry didn't hear her. 'It's never going to go away, is it?'

'What?'

'Them. The way they make me feel like I've hiked though six feet of mental sludge.'

'I don't know.' Ginny shifted to her side, facing Harry. He lay on his back with an arm flung over his eyes. 'They're coming up soon, aren't they? Your probation interviews?' she asked tentatively.

'Next week. Monday.'

'I'll have to see if Mum can watch the boys, then,' Ginny mused.

Harry lifted his arm from his face and peered at Ginny. 'Why?'

'First appointment with Shanti. It's at ten.'

'Oh, damn…' Harry sighed. 'I wanted to go with you.'

'I'll live,' Ginny said dryly. She touched his shoulder. 'When will you be home Monday?'

'I don't know…'

Ginny nodded. 'We'll stay at Mum's for dinner,' she decided.

Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly. 'Thank you,' he said faintly. It would be a precious few hours of solitude. He rarely came home from one of these days in anything that resembled a good mood. Ginny learned early to give him a wide berth on those nights.

When Ginny first moved into Harry's Soho flat, during her first season with the Harpies, she had come home from practice, only to be confronted by a surly, aggrieved Harry, who sat in the dark flat, nursing a bottle of Muggle beer, surrounded by several empty bottles. He abjectly refused to talk to her, ignoring all attempts she made to try and persuade him to come to bed. Ginny had curled on the sofa next to him, stung as he jerked away from the hand she laid over his. Eventually, she had given up and gone to sleep, huddled in the cold, achingly empty bed. The sound of running water woke her a few hours later. Silently, she slid from the bed, and cautiously padded to the partially open bathroom door. Peering through the door, she craned her head to peek inside a crack between the shower curtain and wall into the bathtub. Harry sat with his back to the cascading shower spray, ruthlessly scrubbing his arms with a face cloth. Every so often, his shoulders would begin to tremble and just as abruptly as they would still into a tense wall. Ginny noiselessly retreated back to the bed and climbed under the quilt. She turned on her side, eyes fixed on the open bedroom door, waiting for Harry to join her. At last, he eased into bed, deliberately keeping his distance from Ginny. Later, she would purposely stay at work late, either putting in some extra time training; or after she retired from Quidditch, she would stay at the _Prophet_ office working on an article. Once James was born, she would take him over to her parents' for the day, and find reasons to stay for dinner. It was something she continued once Albus came along.

Ginny hated the probation days, even though they only occurred twice a year. She was cognizant of why Harry avoided them when he came home. He didn't want to connect them with that particular aspect of his job, no matter how badly he might need whatever form of comfort she and the boys could offer.

'Go to sleep, Gin.' Harry's voice floated through the darkness. The sheets rustled as he shifted closer to Ginny, his fingers twining through hers. 'I can hear your brain spinning,' he said wryly.

'I will if you will,' she countered.

'_Touché_,' he murmured, settling into the bed.

* * *

Hermione tucked Rose's small blanket around the child, sleeping with peaceful abandon on Ron's side of the bed. The quiet descended over the flat with a soft sigh, and Hermione nestled into the pillows stacked against the headboard. She carefully opened her tattered copy of _Hogwarts, A History_, and resumed reading, albeit silently now. Hermione had been reading aloud to Rose until she fell asleep. Hermione had laughed quietly to herself, watching Rose's dark, wide eyes, stubbornly staying open, then slowly drifting shut, only to snap wide open once more, until she surrendered to the nap that had been threatening to overtake her.

Ron was away for the day, checking up on things in the Hogsmeade shop. He wouldn't return until the early evening, so Hermione and Rose had been left to their own devices. Hermione cherished the small moments alone with Rose like this; acutely aware they wouldn't last much longer. As much as she looked forward to the new baby, Hermione knew she'd miss these quiet stolen moments.

Hermione's free hand curved with the contours of her body, palm lightly caressing her stomach. Turning the page, she felt a staccato flutter under her fingers. It would have been too faint for Ron to feel, had he been there. She felt a smile of utter contentment spread over her face. 'Hugo…' she whispered, knowing there would never be another name for him. 'Hullo, there.' The book slipped from her fingers and Hermione's attention turned inward, her hands spread over the rounded arc of her abdomen. She smiled sleepily, remembering.

* * *

'_You feel all right?' Ron asked, a note of amusement in his voice._

'_I'm a little tired, but what working parent isn't?' Hermione spooned a third helping of peas onto her plate, and added another lamb chop._

_Ron looked significantly at her plate. 'You just seem awfully hungry.'_

_Hermione gazed at him with a mouth full of peas. Swallowing, she shrugged as she cut up the lamb chop. 'It just tastes really good tonight.'_

'_Hmm.' Ron mashed a roasted potato into Rose's bowl. 'You've been doing that a lot…' He indicated Hermione's rapidly clearing plate._

_Hermione speared a roast potato. 'I'm fine. Just hungry.' _

'_If you say so,' Ron conceded, using a damp dish cloth to wipe the remains of Rose's dinner from her face and hands. 'All right, then midget, let's go have a bath, shall we?' He lifted Rose from the high chair and set her on the floor. _

'_Bubbles?' Rose asked, her small face alight with hope._

'_Sure,' Ron told her, ruffling her mop of curls._

'_Bubbles!' Rose crowed running down to the bathroom, plopping on the bathmat to pull her socks off._

_Hermione began to clear the table, filling the sink with water, humming slightly. She idly checked the date on the calendar, as she set the dishes to wash themselves. Since Rose's birth, her cycles had become somewhat irregular, but it wasn't anything to worry about. She and Ron hadn't yet discussed attempting to have another baby, but they weren't as vigilant about birth control as they could be. And given their difficulties conceiving Rose, neither of them expected to conceive again easily. She kept track of dates out of habit. Hermione took the calendar down from the wall, and flipped back a few pages. The last mark on the calendar had been slightly more than three months ago. _

_A red flag rose in her head._

_There had never been a gap of more than twelve weeks between her cycles. Six, sure. Eight, absolutely. But not twelve._

_Twelve was highly unusual._

'_I can't be…' she murmured. 'It's impossible…' Shrugging, Hermione put the calendar back on the wall. It wouldn't do any good to worry about it. Knowing her history, she probably wasn't. Work had been stressful the past few weeks, with managing to persuade the Wizengamot to fold the Werewolf Registry into part of the Werewolf Support Services, arguing that lycanthropy was more of a manageable disease, not death sentence. Besides, the registry reminded Hermione uncomfortably of several moments in Muggle history. She didn't think werewolves should be forced to wear badges, or be subject to random scrutiny and examinations by some cold, aloof Ministry official._

_Hermione turned to the sink and began to return the dishes to their cupboard. She tried not to think about it, as she read to Rose and tucked her into bed. She tried to push it from her mind as she slid into a bath. She tried not to obsess over it as she lay in bed, waiting for Ron. She tried not to dwell on it while she stared at the dark ceiling, listening to Ron breathing next to her. She turned over on her side, huffily, unable to shake the idea that she might be pregnant. 'All right, enough,' she spat softly. She flung the bedding back and swung her feet to the floor. She pulled a jumper over the t-shirt she wore, and shoved her feet into a pair of trainers. 'Ron?' she whispered, shaking him a little._

'_Whaa?'_

'_I need to go out,' Hermione told him._

_Ron lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, looking at the alarm clock. 'It's after midnight, hen,' he yawned. 'Where are you going?'_

'_I just need to go do something. I'll be back in a few.' Hermione darted out of the bedroom and Ron heard the nearly soundless pop of her Disapparition. Sighing in resignation, he pushed himself up against the headboard. He wasn't going to go back to sleep any time soon. When Hermione got something in her teeth, it was difficult for her to let it go._

_She returned to the flat several minutes later, bearing a small bag from the Tesco Express on Charing Cross they frequented on their late-night forays for things like ice cream and milk. She disappeared into the bathroom, the rustling sounds of a box being ripped open reaching Ron's ears, after he heard the bathroom door close firmly. When Hermione didn't come out of the bathroom for several minutes, Ron slid from the bed, his curiosity aroused, and stood outside the bathroom door. 'Hermione?' Ron tried to open the door, but it was locked. He glanced over his shoulder at his wand, lying on the night table and sighed. He trekked back to the bedroom and picked up the wand, pointing it at the door. He was about to say the incantation to make the door open, when it swung open, revealing a stunned-looking Hermione, wordlessly holding something out to him. Mystified, Ron took the steps necessary to close the distance between them, and reached out for the object balanced on her palm._

_He held it up to the light, squinting at the two lines. 'This can't be right,' he informed her._

'_That's what I thought,' she agreed. 'That's why I did two.' She handed Ron the second test._

_Ron stared down at it, his eyes going back and forth between them. 'I knew it!' he exclaimed. 'I knew there was something going on with you!'_

'_Shhhh!' Hermione motioned for him to be quiet. 'You'll wake Rosie.' She herded Ron back into their bedroom, and closed the door. _

'_When did this happen?' Ron asked, eyeing Hermione._

'_I have no idea,' she said helplessly. Hermione gripped Ron's hand. 'We've never talked about having another one.'_

_Ron blinked down at the tests in his hand. 'Not really.'_

'_So…?' Hermione waited anxiously for Ron's reply._

_Ron glanced up at her, a faint crease forming between her brows. He remembered how challenging it had been for the both of them when they had been trying to have a baby the first time. And here was something wholly and completely unexpected, yet a gift all the same. Dimly, Ron realized this must be what it was like for the others to discover they were going to have a baby. No worry, no waiting, no counting days, waiting breathlessly as each week passed._

'_I've never wanted Rosie to be an only child,' he said._

* * *

Hermione woke up; Rose's warm, pliable body snuggled next to hers. Ron lay on Rose's other side, watching them sleep. 'How long have you been there?' she asked huskily.

'A bit,' Ron allowed. He'd been home for more than an hour. 'The two of you looked so peaceful; I didn't want to wake you up.' He noticed Hermione's hand moving in circles over the side of her stomach. 'How are you two doing?' he asked, his hand covering hers.

Hermione smiled. 'We're fine, Hugo and I.' Hugo had started moving again, and the ripples he generated effervesced in waves through her.

'Hugo?'

'Yeah. It's the only one that feels right.'

'Hugo, then…' Ron craned his head over Rose's sleeping body and kissed Hermione softly.

'I want pie…' Hermione breathed, hoping Ron would remember a long-ago conversation.

'But we don't have pie…' Ron informed her.

'No, Ron… I want _pie_,' she said, waggling her eyebrows in what she hoped was a lascivious leer.

'Wan' pie…' a sleepy voice piped up between them. Rose rubbed her eyes and bolted upright. 'Pie, Daddy!' she pleaded.

'After dinner, Rose-bud,' Ron promised absently, peering at Hermione's face. She brought his hand up to her mouth and pressed a kiss to the palm, making Ron inhale sharply. 'Oh… that kind of pie…' He rolled off the bed, picking up Rose and slinging her over one shoulder, sending her into gales of giggles. 'I think I can manage that.' He sauntered off to the kitchen, tickling Rose. 'Want to help Daddy make the pie for pudding?' he asked her, their voices fading as they went into the kitchen.

* * *

Ron's hand lay curved over Hermione's breast. 'What brought this on?' he mumbled, his nose inches away from hers.

Hermione shrugged languidly, the movement making her skin shift under Ron's fingers, sending tiny frissons of delight over her body. Pregnancy had intensified her sense of smell, and Ron was always on the edge of her awareness. She could tell when he had just emerged from the shower, the woodsy scent of his soap invading her senses. Or when he'd spent the day in the back room of the shop, manufacturing and packaging the products. She could smell the myriad herbs and other ingredients he had used. And under it all was that tang of Ron himself. When she had woken from her nap earlier, the scent of him had washed over her. She'd nearly lost all sense of control when he'd laid his hand over hers. All throughout dinner, she'd found every pathetic excuse she could come up with to touch him. Rose couldn't have gone to sleep fast enough. 'No idea…' Hermione murmured.

Ron chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. 'Whatever it is, I'm not going to argue.'

Hermione stretched against Ron, her body pressing against his in a wordless question. 'Enjoy it while you can,' she told him. 'Three more months, and moments like this are going to be hard to come by.'

Ron wound his hands into her hair, shifting so she was draped over him after a fashion. 'I'll take that under consideration, hen…'

* * *

Ginny sat on an examination table, her feet swinging idly above the floor. She noticed under the pale green hem of the gown she wore, her socks didn't quite match. In the bright light of Shanti's office, she realized one was navy blue, and one was black. They weren't even the same style. She straightened up when the door opened, and Shanti strode in the room, calmly efficient as always. Shanti perched on the edge of a tall stool, Ginny's file in hand. 'You're definitely pregnant,' Shanti informed Ginny. 'Eight or nine weeks.' She dropped Ginny's file on the counter behind her. 'Ginny…'

'I know…'

'Three children in four years,' Shanti stated. 'Albus isn't even two yet,' she continued. 'It's an awful lot for your body to handle.'

'I know.'

'What on earth were you using for contraception?' Shanti asked, picking up Ginny's file and flipping through it.

'Muggle condoms,' Ginny sighed.

Shanti felt her eyebrow rise. 'Really? Those are usually pretty effective.'

'Yeah…' Ginny began to laugh. 'The ironic thing is, we had decided to wait until Albie is at least three before trying to have another one.' She laid a hand over her stomach. 'That was when this happened.'

Shanti laid the file back on the counter. 'Once the baby's born we're going to have to look into some alternate forms of birth control for you. Unless you want more children?'

'No.' Ginny shook her head emphatically. 'This is it.'

'There are some options we can do. Most of them are temporary, but there are a couple that are somewhat more permanent. But we can discuss that later.' Shanti slid off the stool and went to stand next to the examination table. 'Right. You know the drill…'

'No nausea. A little tired, but nothing unbearable yet. The usual…'

'All right.' Shanti scribbled a few things in Ginny's file. 'No Quidditch. I know how intense your family pick-up games can get,' she added when Ginny's mouth opened to protest. 'You can still fly, just no fancy tricks. Get plenty of rest. Come see me if anything doesn't feel right. Even if it's something you can't describe or can't put a finger on.' She tapped Ginny's chart, frowning. 'James and Albus haven't had dragon pox yet, have they?'

'No. Why?'

'If either of them comes down with it, you'll have to find somewhere to stay for a week, until they're not contagious any longer.'

'Brilliant…'

'I'd go find a nice hotel with room service,' Shanti mused. 'Watch bad telly and read trashy Muggle novels…'

Ginny grinned. 'I knew I liked you.'

'Great minds, and all.' Shanti wrote something else in Ginny's file. 'Set up an appointment for next month with the welcome witch after you dress.' She gave Ginny's shoulder a slight squeeze. 'Are you all right with this? I know it was a bit sooner than you wanted.'

'Yes, actually I am. I was a little shocked at first, but maybe it'll be a girl this time.'

'Something to look forward to, after two boys, eh?'

Ginny slid off the examination table, with a chuckle. 'Something like that.'

* * *

Ginny led the boys to the back door of the house, shifting a sleeping Albus in her arms, as she used her wand to open the door. She urged James to go into the darkened kitchen ahead of her. 'Mummy, where's Daddy?'

'He's gone to bed, Jemmy,' Ginny replied absently, waving her wand, lighting a path to the stairs. She laid Albus in his cot and peeled his coat and jumper off, dropping them in the rocking chair. She gently tugged his shoes off and set them on the floor, then worked his small trousers down his legs and tossed them in the seat of the rocker to join his other clothing. Molly had put a fresh nappy on him before they left the Burrow, so she could leave him be until morning. Ginny tucked the quilt around Albus, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Ginny took James into his bedroom and knelt in front of him. 'Arms up,' she said, taking the hem of his jumper in her hands. He dutifully raised his arms over his head, allowing Ginny to pull it off. She made him take off his shoes and socks, while she found a pair of clean pajamas for him.

'Want Daddy to read to me,' James mumbled, as Ginny pushed his jeans down.

'I told you, Jem, Daddy's already sleeping. Like you should be.'

'Why?'

'Because he doesn't feel well.'

'Wh-wh-whyyyyy?' James asked on a yawn.

'Because he's had a horrid day,' Ginny replied tiredly. 'And it's time for little boys named James Sirius Potter to be in bed.' She helped James put on his pajamas and sent him to his bed with a light swat on his bottom. She pulled the quilt up to James' chin and kissed him. 'Sleep well, Jemmy.'

Ginny partially closed James' door and opened the door to her bedroom. She could see the huddled shape of Harry curled in their bed in the dim light from the corridor. She closed the door, and tiptoed into the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth. She stripped off her clothes with a sigh and dropped them into the laundry basket in the corner. The bathroom was redolent of the scent of sandalwood from Harry's soap. Ginny wondered how long he'd been in bed. She didn't think it had been very long, given how warm and humid the bathroom was. She shut off the light, and blindly rummaged in the wardrobe for a nightdress. 'You can turn on a light, Gin,' came Harry's hoarse voice from the bed.

'I thought you were asleep.'

'Not yet…'

Ginny flicked her wand at the small light on top of the wardrobe and dug a nightdress from underneath a welter of shirts and jeans she had carelessly thrown in that morning. She wriggled into the garment, the soft cotton skimming over her body. She turned to the bed, and crawled into it, startled when Harry immediately reached for her. 'Harry…?' she whispered.

'I just…' Harry slowly exhaled and wrapped his arms around Ginny, his head tucked into her neck. One of his hands slowly slid down to Ginny's abdomen. 'I need to remember why I'm doing this…'


	5. Hide and Seek

Ginny pulled a jumper over her head, grateful for the bitterly cold February weather. The bulky jumpers she favored in the winters hid the changes to her body. She still wasn't ready to begin telling people yet about her pregnancy. She carried memories of the months after Albus was born. James was still obviously in nappies, and Albus preferred the sling to the pram. So every time she went to Diagon Alley, or even a Muggle part of London or Godric's Hollow, she caught a few women giving her quick, fleeting, disapproving glances. She'd even heard one woman huff to a friend on her mobile, 'Not even out of nappies… What was she thinking?' Ginny just shrugged it off. It wasn't any of their business. Besides, it wasn't as if she and Harry had actually _planned_ to get pregnant again so quickly.

'Ginny? Are you home?' Andromeda called from the sitting room.

'I'm upstairs,' Ginny replied loudly, tugging her jeans over her hips, flopping back onto the unmade bed, holding her breath, attempting to do up the zipper of her jeans. _Did I outgrow my clothes so quickly last time?_ she wondered, explosively exhaling. 'I need to go shopping,' she muttered darkly, when the button refused to slip through its buttonhole. Ginny hauled herself off the bed, and yanked the hem of her jumper down over the gaping jeans. She padded down the stairs into the sitting room.

Andromeda and Teddy sat patiently on the sofa, Teddy's hair as eye-wateringly turquoise as usual. 'Teddy, Harry's got the boys in the back, if you want to go join them.' Teddy catapulted off the sofa and darted through the kitchen door to the back garden. 'I'll be just a mo,' Ginny told Andromeda, making a beeline for the office. She was sure Harry kept a few rubber bands in his desk. Ginny rummaged noisily through the top drawer, where Harry generally kept paper clips, rubber bands, Muggle pencils and ballpoint pens, quills, and other detritus. She discarded a few rubber bands as being too skimpy and not up to the job of holding her jeans up for the day. Ginny stretched her hand into the drawer, groping blindly, until her fingers closed on a thick rubber band. She looped one end over the button, threaded the other end through the buttonhole, and slipped it over the button.

'How far along are you?' a wry voice asked.

Ginny's head jerked up to see Andromeda standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the wall. 'Three months,' she admitted. 'But I haven't told anyone yet…'

'You don't have to,' Andromeda snorted. 'Anybody with eyes in their head can see it.'

Ginny's hands spread over her abdomen. 'Is it that obvious?'

Andromeda cocked her head to the side, giving Ginny a slow look. 'Not like that,' she said considering. 'I hate to be clichéd,' she chuckled softly. 'But you do have that expectant mother radiance about you.' Andromeda's eyes traveled over Ginny once more. 'Although you won't be able to conceal it much longer.' Andromeda remembered the lengths Tonks had gone through to veil her burgeoning pregnancy from everyone, including her parents. 'Why are you waiting?'

Ginny straightened her jumper. 'Didn't want to dash anyone's hopes. After what happened with Bronwyn last summer, we all got a little cautious…'

'Ah.'

Ginny shut the desk drawer and dropped into the large swiveling chair Harry kept behind the desk, and began to twist the chair from side to side. 'We were going to tell Teddy this weekend. Just him, before we tell the rest of the family…' Ginny stopped the chair's motions. They were making her queasy. She pulled her hands into the sleeves of her jumper, waiting for Andromeda to say something. Ten years of acquaintance hadn't lessened the aura of inscrutability Andromeda possessed. However, Andromeda merely nodded. 'This one's really going to change things for Teddy. More than either Albus or James ever did…'

'Of course it is,' Andromeda said, perching on one of the armchairs by the fire.

'We just don't want him to feel like he's being pushed out of the family… We've always treated him like he's one of ours…'

'Ginny,' interrupted Andromeda. 'Teddy will be fine.'

'That's what Harry keeps telling me,' Ginny sighed.

'You seem awfully worried about what Teddy will think about all this.' Andromeda's dark eyes pierced though Ginny. 'Why?'

'Ugh.' Ginny's head fell forward to the cluttered desk. 'Last summer, at Mum and Dad's anniversary, right after Sophie was born, someone asked Katie if that was it for them. And George blurted out, "Absolutely!" Neville asked why, in all innocence, and Percy spoke up. He said while he loved his younger siblings, after a while, he felt as if he always had to take care of one of us. Or that he was sort of relegated to the background, because one of the younger ones needed the attention. Not that Mum or Dad ever neglected any of us,' Ginny added hastily. 'But when there're seven of you, something has to give at some point.' She ran her hands through her hair. 'That's what I'd like to avoid.'

'Are you planning on emulating your parents?' Andromeda asked curiously. The Weasleys had always fascinated her, as the Blacks had never believed in having large families. It caused too many fissures and siblings were as likely to find themselves in Siberia as they were on the nasty end of a myriad of sundry hexes or jinxes that could cause permanent incapacitation. Her family had been rather the exception to the rule, with the three of them. Most of them preferred to only have one or two children – at the most.

'Merlin, no!' gasped Ginny. 'I can barely handle the two I have right now, much less five more.' She lifted her head and propped it on an upturned hand. 'I just hope he understands he always has a place with us, no matter what happens…'

Andromeda rose to her feet gracefully. 'He will.'

* * *

James drooped over his lunch, the sandwich slipping from his fingers. Teddy bit his lip, amused. James would always fall asleep, then protest at the top of his lungs that he wasn't sleepy and was too big for naps. Albus curiously watched the spectacle James was making of himself, and reached a pudgy hand out for one of James' seemingly abandoned carrot slices. James suddenly came awake, snatching the carrot slices from under Albus' questing fingers. 'Nooo! Can't have that,' he protested, shoving the two slices into his mouth defiantly.

Albus' wide green eyes widened even further, before he burst into tears.

It always captivated Teddy at the amount of noise both Albus and James could produce separately and combined. It was truly a cacophony of sound. It was something he sorely missed when he wasn't at Harry and Ginny's house. Not that Andromeda didn't allow Teddy to be noisy, but this was something Teddy wanted. He wanted brothers or sisters of his own. He'd spent most of his life around Harry and Ginny's extended family, and secretly envied Victoire her younger sister. And as much as she complained about her new baby brothers, Teddy fancied he wouldn't have minded the nappies, the crying, or the general disorder a baby brought. It would be worth it.

'I think it's time for somebody to take a nap,' Harry said firmly, lifting Albus from his chair. He tucked Albus against his side, and used his free arm to snag James from his chair.

'No!' James moaned. 'Too big for naps, Daddy…'

'You may not need one, but I do,' Harry said dryly to his son, setting him on the floor, and nudging him forward with a knee.

'Don' wanna nap…' James grumbled, as he dragged his feet to the door.

'Too bad, chum,' Harry said unsympathetically. 'Upstairs. Now.'

'No nap!' wailed James, as Harry gently herded him up the stairs to the first floor.

Teddy giggled quietly, helping Ginny clear the table. 'Makes a bit of a fuss, doesn't he?'

Ginny gave Teddy a censorious look. 'You did the same thing,' she chided with a smile. 'You took the extra step of sitting upright on the sofa, stubbornly insisting you weren't sleepy.' She ran a hand over Teddy's vivid hair. 'So Harry and I would gradually stop talking, and see how long it would take you to fall asleep.'

'I did not!' Teddy exclaimed, scandalized.

'Oh, yes you did.' Ginny handed Teddy a damp dishcloth and set him to wipe the table. 'Usually took you less than ten minutes to pass out cold, for at least an hour.' Ginny began to wash the dishes, more for something to do until Harry returned than anything else. As she watched Teddy from the corner of her eye, Ginny thought perhaps Andromeda was right, and she was worried over nothing.

Teddy had accepted the addition of James, then Albus with a large amount of equanimity for someone so young. Ginny wondered if it had something to do with the sheer amount of time he and Andromeda had spent with the rest of the family at the Burrow – there always seemed to be a baby around there. She thought she might be underestimating Teddy's ability to absorb changes to the family dynamic. Chuckling to herself, she realized she was treating Teddy the way she'd accused her family of treating her for so long. Ginny hated to be kept in the dark as a child, and here she was, doing the same thing to Teddy. She knew very well from Harry's childhood that a room didn't necessarily express love for a child. In too many cases, it was just a place to sleep.

'They're both down for a bit,' Harry said wearily, coming back into the kitchen, pulling out a chair, and straddled it, facing Ginny and Teddy.

'So that gives us about an hour?' Ginny asked hopefully.

'Being optimistic today, are you?' Harry snorted.

'One can dream,' Ginny retorted. James' naps were growing shorter as he grew older, lasting anywhere from half an hour to forty-five minutes, depending on how early he'd woken up that morning.

'Well, I'm not taking a nap,' Teddy pronounced. 'Gran hasn't made me take an afternoon nap since I started primary school.'

'Actually, Teddy, we wanted to talk to you.' Ginny gestured to a chair next to Harry.

'I didn't cut Vic's hair,' Teddy said automatically, sitting in the proffered chair.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look over Teddy's head. 'This isn't about Vic's hair, although we'll talk about that later,' Harry promised.

'We need to talk to you about something.' Ginny dropped into the chair on the other side of Teddy.

Teddy glanced from Harry to Ginny, growing slightly alarmed at the somber expressions on their faces. 'This isn't the whole "where babies come from" speech is it?' he blurted. 'I heard it from Gran when Sophie was born,' he added with a slight frown of disgust.

'Oh. Well, it's not quite that…' Harry stammered. 'We just have something we'd like to tell you.'

'Are you splitting up?' Teddy asked anxiously. 'My mate at school, Brendan, his parents are splitting up…'

'No, darling,' Ginny soothed him. She was beginning to think dropping the news about the baby was going to be a welcome respite to Teddy. 'I promise you, we're not splitting up.'

'Oh. All right.' Teddy's small shoulders slumped in relief.

Ginny wrapped an arm around Teddy. 'You know we love you,' she began.

'Yeah.' Teddy's large grey eyes narrowed suspiciously.

'Ginny and I are going to have another baby,' Harry interjected, unable to prolong the inevitable any further.

'Is that all?' Teddy scoffed. 'I thought it was something big.'

'Well, yes.' Ginny lightly flicked the back of Teddy's neck. 'And mind the way you speak to an adult, young man,' she admonished him.

Teddy squirmed a little. 'It's just a baby. You were making it out to be this big deal,' he protested.

'It sort of is, Ted,' Harry said. 'It's going to change a few things…'

'Like what?' Teddy's shoulders tightened a little.

Harry glanced at Ginny over the tops of his glasses. 'We'll have to rearrange a few things,' he said. 'You might have to share with one of the boys when you come over after the baby comes.'

'But that doesn't mean you won't be welcome here, Teddy. You can always come over any time you want,' Ginny said hastily.

Teddy sat hunched between Harry and Ginny, chewing a ragged fingernail contemplatively. He said nothing for such a long time; Harry began to speculate Teddy might be more upset than he was letting on. 'Teddy?' Harry asked, prodding the boy gently.

Teddy pulled his finger from his mouth and stared unseeing at the wall opposite. He could handle giving up his room, but an idea came into his head, half-formed. 'Could we put my things in the attic?' he finally said. 'Like Ron's room at the Burrow?' The crooked door at the top of the stairs invaded his mind, and Teddy could see the small sign that read "Ronald's Room" that still adorned it.

'I think we can arrange something like that.' Harry smiled.

'Okay.' Teddy slid off his chair. 'May I go now?'

'Sure…' Ginny exhaled silently, grateful Teddy had taken the news so well.

Teddy began to walk toward the door that led to the sitting room. 'So, I kind of get a new brother or sister, don't I?'

'Yeah.' Harry blinked rapidly against the sudden sting in his eyes. 'Yeah, you do.'

'Brilliant,' Teddy pronounced, before he skipped into the sitting room, to complete building a fortress out of blocks for his model dragons.

Ginny shook her head. 'He may come to regret that one day,' she said ruefully. 'When we ask him to babysit.'

'D'you think we worry too much?' Harry mused.

'Just a bit,' Ginny replied, stretching. She could feel the gentle tugs of drowsiness that accompanied early pregnancy, and got to her feet, intending to go up to have a kip herself.

'Why didn't we think of turning the attic into a space for Teddy?' Harry demanded suddenly.

'Very good question.' Ginny yawned widely. 'Probably because it feels too much like we're shunting him aside. But _he_ asked for it. It's a good idea,' she told Harry. 'Now then,' Ginny said briskly. 'What on earth happened to Victorire's hair?'

* * *

Harry knocked softly on the partially open door of Teddy's room, before sidling in through the gap between the door and the wall. Teddy was lying on his stomach on the bed, his head at the foot, scribbling in a shabby notebook. 'What'cha doing, then?' Harry asked curiously.

Teddy squinted at the sprawling letters penciled in the notebook. 'Gran said Dad always wrote down what happened that day before he went to bed. She says when I'm older, I can read his journals.' He added another line to the page. 'Thought I'd try it…'

'Can we talk for a bit?' Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Teddy.

'Okay.' Teddy tucked the pencil into the notebook and closed it, sitting up.

'You're really okay with the baby?' Harry nudged his glasses up his nose.

'I don't mind sharing with James or Albus,' Teddy sighed. 'One or both of them end up in here anyway. It's not a big deal.'

'Right. Could you do something for me? Keep it a secret for now?'

'Why?' Teddy's brow furrowed in confusion.

Harry plucked at a stray thread in the bright blue quilt on the bed. 'We're going to tell everyone soon, but not just yet…'

'Okay…' Teddy mimicked buttoning his lips, making Harry smile.

'So… Vic's hair…?'

'I had nothing to do with it,' Teddy protested. 'I _told_ her not to do it. She let Maddie and Izzy play with her hair, and Maddie decided Vic needed a haircut.'

'That sounds like something Maddie would do,' Harry muttered.

'Well, Grannie Molly wouldn't let us go outside last Sunday, so we got bored banging about inside,' Teddy explained patiently.

'Not really a good excuse for cutting someone's hair,' Harry objected.

Teddy snorted. 'Talk to Maddie.' He grinned impishly at Harry. 'Parker startled her, and the scissors slipped. Cut off an enormous chunk of Vic's hair.'

Harry's lips twitched as he tried to not to laugh at the image of a large swath of Victoire's sunrise-bright hair sliding to the floor, while the children tried to hide it under a gaudy hat. Impulsively, he reached over and gathered Teddy into a tight hug. Teddy unashamedly returned it, but Harry knew moments like this would be fleeting far too soon for Harry's taste. 'G'night, Teddy,' Harry murmured, dropping a kiss on top of Teddy's bright head.

'Night, Harry…'

* * *

'Are you ever going to tell me about that dream with the name Hugo?' Hermione asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Ron tilted his chin up, trying to shave under his jaw without nicking himself. He glanced at Hermione in the mirror. 'Are you going to tell my why you insist on putting ribbons in Rosie's hair?' he countered.

'Yes. They're pretty.' Hermione rinsed her toothbrush and dropped it into the cup by the tap. 'Your turn.'

Ron swiped the razor across a cheekbone, glaring at Hermione. He finished shaving and wiped the remnants of the shaving soap from his face with a small towel. 'Later,' he told her.

'You said that last week,' Hermione said skeptically. 'And the week before that. It's later now!'

'Fine,' Ron grumbled, striding into their bedroom, yanking open a cupboard. He pulled a clean jumper over the t-shirt he wore. 'It's just a dream, mind,' he cautioned.

'I realize that,' Hermione said acidly. 'I still think Divination's a load of rubbish.'

'Fine.' Ron grabbed a pair of worn jeans and pulled them on. Aggravating a woman seven months gone with child was rather like poking a sleeping dragon in the eye. 'That night you had to stay at St. Mungo's when you were carrying Rosie?' At Hermione's nod, Ron continued. 'I couldn't go back to sleep after I woke up…

'Anyway, there had been some sort of accident at the shop, and I…' He swallowed heavily. Even though the dream had been more than two years ago, it still hovered in the shadows of his psyche. Ron remembered it in vivid detail. 'I was in a bad way, hen. I couldn't do anything. Just useless. But I knew everything that was going on.' He shuddered visibly. 'It was horrible. Ron heaved a sigh, trying to dismiss his fears. 'We only had the one child in the dream, and you called him Hugo. He looked just like you.' Ron smiled crookedly. 'That is where Hugo comes from, hen.'

He waited for the inevitable barrage of questions, but Hermione just nodded once, and proceeded to rummage through the wardrobe for her own clothing. 'That's it?' Ron asked incredulously, convinced there had to be more.

Hermione shrugged. 'What do you want me to say?' She adjusted the trousers over her swollen abdomen, and buttoned her shirt. 'Other than to mind yourself in the shop,' she added. 'But I don't think I really need to say that.'

'What would you do if something like that were to happen?' Ron asked pensively, fiddling with the laces of his trainers.

'Well, I wouldn't leave you, if that's what you're after,' Hermione said pertly.

'Actually,' Ron said slowly. 'That's what I'd want you to do…'

Hermione dropped to the edge of the unmade bed. 'Why?' she asked stiffly.

'You ought to be able to…' Ron trailed off and hitched one shoulder uncomfortably. 'Leave it, hen,' he said, in an attempt to drop the subject.

'I ought to be able to do what?' Hermione asked icily.

'Remarry,' Ron muttered miserably. 'So you don't have to raise them alone.' He lifted a hand and let it rest gently over Hermione's stomach, rubbing lightly when Hugo nudged his hand.

'I'll make that decision for myself, thank you,' Hermione retorted, heaving herself to her feet.

'I'm just saying it's an option,' Ron argued.

'I'll take it under consideration _if_ and _when_ the time comes,' Hermione snapped. She left their bedroom to fetch Rose and finish dressing her for Sunday lunch at the Burrow.

'Hermione.' Ron followed her to Rose's bedroom.

'What?'

'It was just a dream.'

'I know.'

'I thought you didn't put much stock in this sort of thing,' Ron said.

'I don't.' Hermione maneuvered Rose to the top of the changing table, and worked Rose's feet into her shoes. 'What bothers me is that you think I could just remarry – like that!' She snapped her fingers.

'I don't think that!' Ron snarled. He found himself squeezing Rose's stuffed bunny. Throttling his voice down to a rumble, he forced himself to hand the bunny to Rose. 'You shouldn't be alone. Not because I think you can't take care of yourself or the midgets.' He turned on his heel and began to leave the room. 'You're one hell of a woman, hen. It would be a shame if you didn't have someone to share it with you.'

'Well, why didn't you say that in the first place, Ronald?' Hermione huffed, setting Rose on the floor.

'Bloody hell, you're difficult,' Ron growled, stooping to hoist Rose into his arms for the trip to the Burrow.

'And you're just now noticing this?' Hermione swung Rose's bag to her shoulder.

'No,' Ron replied promptly. 'I knew it the first day I met you.' He wound a hand into Hermione's hair, tipping her head back. 'And I still married you.' He gave her a hard kiss.

Hermione's toes tingled as she grinned. 'Too bad it's too early for Rose to have a nap, and we're already late for your parents.'

Ron kissed her more gently this time. 'Later,' he promised.

* * *

Ginny toyed with her steak-and-kidney pie restlessly. Something was off about it. Molly's cooking was normally spot on, but this didn't taste quite right to Ginny. Without thinking, she waved her wand at a cupboard and caught a jar of pickle in one hand, without looking. She didn't see the avid glances the rest of the family was giving her, as she piled an unholy amount of pickle on her lunch. She took a bite, and shook her head. It was still missing something. She jabbed her wand at the cupboard again, and caught a bottle of salad cream, and poured a generous dollop of it on top of the mess already occupying her plate. She didn't hear the gasps of disgust as she began to eat her lunch in satisfaction.

'You owe me five Sickles,' Molly said to Arthur, a hint of triumph in her voice.

Ginny glanced down the table and was greeted by the sight of her family members exchanging coins across the table. 'What are you doing?' she asked bemused, a forkful of the revolting mess suspended in midair.

'You're pregnant,' Katie stated, accepting a Galleon from George. 'Told you so,' she crowed to George.

Harry looked down at Teddy, who was stolidly munching his way through his lunch. 'Did you tell?' he asked.

'Huh?' Teddy looked up at Harry.

'Did you tell anyone about that thing with Ginny?' he asked, playfully pulling Teddy into his lap and tickling him mercilessly.

'I didn't tell,' Teddy gasped, giggling, as Harry gave him a raspberry on his stomach.

Ginny laid her fork down carefully. 'How did you lot know?'

'Have you seen yourself?' Fleur said with a knowing smirk.

'Every day,' Ginny said dryly.

'You knew that Charlie got singed last month before we could say anything,' Bronwyn said. 'You could smell the smoke in his hair.' Bronwyn took a sip of water. 'From forty feet away.'

'And you don't like salad cream.' Hermione gagged slightly. She didn't care for it, either. 'But you just poured half a bottle on your food.'

'So?' Ginny challenged.

'So, you're pregnant,' Molly declared. 'Aren't you?' She looked at Ginny expectantly.

Ginny gazed at Harry with a look that seemed to say, _Well, what do you think we should do?_

He shrugged imperceptibly, as if to reply, _Too late to deny it now._

Ginny straightened her shoulders. 'Yes.'

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Kind of had a mental block with this one.

When I was student teaching, I had a Harry Potter planner (yes, I know... I'm such a geek... but it was on clearance... and large enough to handle my rather complicated schedule) and one of the other ladies in my class taught Latin and translated the Hogwarts motto for me. I've been dying to slip it in somewhere. :)

For those of you reading Q&A, I've already started the next update. :) And since I've been given a forced vacation, I ought to be able to work on it tomorrow. :)


	6. A Kink In the Plans

The alarm began to beep softly, gradually becoming louder until a hand reached out and landed heavily on the snooze button. The hand slowly slid off the alarm clock and disappeared back under the quilt from which it had emerged.

Harry rolled over and fitted his body against Ginny's warmer one. They had seven more minutes until the alarm went off again. His hand drifted up the planes and slopes of Ginny's body until it landed on her neck, and brushed away the hair, so he could nuzzle the silky skin behind her ear. The hand slipped back down her body, skimming over the curve of her hip and their unborn child, nestling her firmly against him, fingertips tracing the skin of her thigh under the hem of her rucked-up nightdress.

'Don't start something you can't finish,' Ginny's voice murmured, husky with sleep.

'We've got at least five minutes…' Harry replied.

'And a toddler with impeccable timing.'

Harry's shoulders slumped. 'Yeah… Damn.'

Ginny rolled over to face Harry. 'We both have to get up and go to work today, as it is anyway,' she told him arching her back in a stretch. 'No time, even if we could manage to find something to distract James for a few minutes.'

'I hate it when you're logical like that,' Harry muttered darkly.

'You want the shower first?'

Harry shook his head. 'No, you go. I don't have to be in until ten or so today. I'll go get the boys up and dressed, if you get breakfast ready.'

'Are you going to drop them off with Mum?'

'I was thinking about it. Zacharias Smith's bloody kid bit Albus last week in the childcare center.'

Ginny stopped mid-stretch. 'Wait. What?'

'Smith's kid bit Albus over some stuffed dragon. He's fine.'

'I see the kid's as bad-tempered as his father,' Ginny mused, resuming her languorous stretch. 'Did you talk to the director?'

'Of course I did.' Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. 'Smith's not allowed to bring his kid back for a while.'

Ginny sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. 'Because…?' she asked suspiciously. Neither of them liked receiving special treatment due to Harry's previous life.

'That was the third time there's been an incident between Matthew Smith and another child there,' Harry assured Ginny. 'I didn't demand anything and the director didn't offer, as per our agreement.'

'Good,' she sighed. 'How's porridge sound?'

'Again…?' Harry began, then saw the beady-eyed look Ginny threw over her shoulder, and hastily corrected himself. 'I mean, I love porridge. Could eat it every morning.' He had, in fact, eaten porridge nearly every morning for the past two weeks. While Ginny insisted she was feeling all right, porridge was the only thing she could handle eating early in the morning like this. It made Harry long for the weekend mornings, when they could sleep a little longer, and Ginny could stomach eggs, bacon, and sausages.

Ginny snorted in amusement. 'Git,' she said with a slight grin. She slid out of the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Harry reluctantly left the warmth of the bed and shuffled out of the bedroom to wake James. Uncharacteristically, James was huddled under his quilt, looking decidedly wan; he normally sprawled across the bed in odd angles. Harry turned on the small lamp on the bureau and bent to shake his son awake. 'Jemmy,' he said softly, gently shaking his shoulder. James whimpered and curled into a tighter ball. Harry frowned down at the child, fingers gently brushing the hair away from his face. Something about the skin around James' eyes made Harry kneel on the floor next to the bed, and attempt to turn James over, so he could see him more clearly.

James was not cooperating with his father's plans, so Harry darted back into the bedroom, plunging his hand under his pillow for his wand, and returned to James' room. '_Lumos_!' he exclaimed, fearfully. The delicate skin around James' eyes had a poisonous-looking green tinge to it, and small greenish bumps were erupting across his round cheeks. 'Oh, effing…' Harry took the time to extinguish the light from his wand and pelted into the bedroom once more.

Ginny was in the shower, humming some old Celestina Warbeck song that was regaining popularity, when Harry burst through the bathroom door. Ginny poked her head through the shower curtain. 'Something wrong?'

'What does dragon pox look like?' Harry demanded.

Ginny reached down, and slowly turned the tap off, reaching for the towel on the shelf next to the bathtub. Lather still dotted her body, sliding in snowy mounds down her body to the floor. She wrapped the towel around her, shivering slightly. 'Why?'

Harry shot a Warming charm at her dressing gown and draped it over her shoulders. 'James. He's got green smudges under his eyes, and these bumps over his face. They're green, too.'

Ginny sighed, pushing her arms into the sleeves. 'Yes, that's dragon pox.'

'What do we do?' Harry leaned against the bathroom counter, and worriedly chewed a fraying hangnail.

'Well, _I_ need to leave,' Ginny said wearily. 'I can't be here while he's sick…' She ran a hand over the swell of her abdomen under the dressing gown. 'It could harm the baby. Dragon pox can be really contagious.'

'What about Albus?'

'I'll take him to Mum's as soon as I'm dressed. Not that it would be a bad thing for him to get it now, while he's younger, but I'd rather not risk him getting sick right now.'

'What happens if he has it anyway?'

Ginny sighed, and started to towel her hair dry. 'I don't know,' she confessed. 'We'll just have to cross our fingers and hope he doesn't have it.' She pulled open a drawer and rummaged for a comb. 'I'll stay at the Burrow with Albus. If he does end up coming down with it in the next few days, I guess Mum or Dad can bring him back here.' Ginny thumbed a wet lock of hair away from her eyes. 'If it comes to that, I'll see if Mum can come help you for a few days.'

Harry rolled his wand between his fingers. 'How long does it last?'

Ginny hung up the damp towel. 'About a week.' She began to quickly brush her teeth. 'The contagious period lasts roughly a week. He'll have the spots and greenish skin for a bit longer than that. When the spots get crusty, and he's not running a fever, he's not contagious any more.'

'Ew.'

'Welcome to parenthood,' Ginny snorted, spitting out her toothpaste. 'Go check Al for symptoms, while I dress. If he looks okay, just wrap him up and meet me downstairs. We'll sort out clothes and everything else later.'

Harry nodded, and swiftly went into Albus' room. Albus slept peacefully – blissfully unaware of the impending chaos swirling around him. Harry switched on the small light next to the cot and examined Albus' sleep-flushed face. It was rosy with slumber and unblemished. He carefully scooped the sleeping child from the cot and clumsily wrapped the quilt from the cot around him.

Harry turned and began to walk out of the room, shifting Albus into a more comfortable position in order to carry him. He stopped in the doorway of Albus' room. Ginny was standing in the doorway of James' room, her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders tense. 'I really don't want to go, baby,' she whispered. 'But I have to. But your dad will be here, and he's going to take really good care of you. Trust me. He takes excellent care of me, you know…' Ginny's voice cracked and she turned on her heel, and blindly stumbled down the stairs, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks.

Harry hastily stepped back into Albus' room, unwilling to let Ginny know he'd intruded on what was obviously meant to be a private moment, however inadvertently. He waited a few minutes, tactfully allowing Ginny a moment to collect herself, then carried Albus down to the sitting room, where she was waiting, dressed in a jumper and a rather ratty pair of jeans. He transferred Albus to her arms, trying not to wake him, but his efforts were for naught. Albus blinked sleepily and smiled at Harry. 'Dahhhdeee,' he murmured, leaning forward. After a worried glance at Ginny's still-pensive expression, Harry ran his hand over Albus' wildly disordered hair, and planted a kiss on top of his head.

'Better go,' Ginny said reluctantly. 'Before he realizes you're not going with us.' She blinked a few times, trying to stem the tears that sprang to her eyes. She was having unpleasant memories of the weeks Harry had been away before Albus was born. She tried to smile at Harry, but failed miserably, her lips trembling. A tear slid down her cheek, and Harry reached over and gently brushed it away, leaning down to kiss her.

'We'll be fine,' he told her. 'Go on…' He nudged her toward the fireplace, so she could Floo to the Burrow.

'Don't let him scratch the welts,' Ginny said suddenly. 'There's some potion you can get at the apothecary in Diagon Alley for it. Makes the itching a bit better. And keep an eye on his temperature. If it gets too high, you'll need to get a Fever-Reducing potion in him somehow.' James didn't care for potions. They made him gag to the point of nearly vomiting. 'Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids.' Her voice grew tight with anxiety.

'When this one comes down with it,' Harry told her, his hand caressing her abdomen. 'I'll skive off for a week and let your mum spoil me, while you handle it,' he teased gently. 'Go on, then.' He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward the fireplace. 'Let me know when you get back from the game tonight. And I'll call you tomorrow, all right?'

Ginny's shoulders slumped in defeat. She knew she had to go for the safety of the baby, but she absolutely hated to leave James while he was ill. She tightened her arms around Albus, and stepped up to the fireplace. Harry dipped a hand into the flowerpot on the mantle and threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames. 'The Burrow,' he said firmly. The flames roared, sending bright green shadows over Ginny and Albus' faces. Ginny stepped into the flames, and disappeared in a whorl of emerald fire.

She stumbled onto the hearthrug at the Burrow, stomach churning from the dizzying journey. She managed to set Albus on the sofa, sinking onto the cushion next to him, breathing deeply in an attempt not to vomit. Her hair swung forward, curtaining her averted face, as she focused on a leaf in the rug. She glanced up when the kitchen door swung open, and Molly stood on the threshold clad in her worn dressing gown. 'Ginny!' she exclaimed. 'Whatever is the matter?' She hurried over to Ginny and began trying to check her over thoroughly for injuries.

Ginny tried to squirm away from Molly's ministrations. 'Geroff, Mum,' she protested. 'I'm all right.'

Molly began to unwrap Albus from the quilt. 'Is it Albus? James? Harry?' Molly's voice grew increasingly shrill as she continued to question her daughter.

Albus woke up at that moment and gave Molly a smile of heartbreaking sweetness. 'G'ahnmahm!' he sang delightedly. He scrabbled across Ginny's lap and launched himself into Molly's arms.

'It's James,' Ginny said over Albus' soft chattering. 'He's got dragon pox.'

Molly looked at Ginny over the wild array of Albus' hair. 'Why didn't you leave Albus at home?' she asked confusedly. 'Get it over with.'

'If I could stay at home with Harry, I would have,' Ginny sighed. 'But I can't.'

'I could go for the week and help out,' Molly insisted.

'Mum…'

'Ginny, it's not going to hurt him to have dragon pox now,' Molly said shrewdly, seeing the slight line appear between Ginny's brows.

'I know, Mum…' Ginny sighed. She massaged her temples against the ache that had begun to blossom behind her eyes. As she watched her mother listening to Albus natter, Ginny knew she wasn't entirely truthful with Molly. Her hand reached over and stroked over Albus' hair. In reality, she was driven by the calendar. When Albus turned two, and for all intents and purposes, "officially" caught up, she could let herself relax and stop obsessing over every sniffle and cough.

Molly nodded, and got to her feet. 'Then I'll just get dressed, and take Albus back home with me. He'll come down with it in a few days, get this out of the way. Then you don't have to worry if the baby gets it in a few years. It's a lot better for them if they get dragon pox while they're young.'

'You don't know that,' Ginny insisted. 'They said two years,' she said stubbornly. 'Two years and he'd be just like the others.' She shook her head. 'I won't risk it.'

'Gin…'

'Mum, please…' Ginny's eyes closed against the spinning sitting room. 'Just let me have this…' As irrational as Ginny knew it to be, it was _something_ she could do, in the face of the helplessness she'd felt since had Harry told her James was sick.

Molly's opened her mouth to speak, but the determined set of Ginny's jaw made her change what she was going to say. 'I'll just pop over to your house then, after breakfast, and get Albie here some clothes.' She eyed the frayed jeans Ginny wore. 'And you, too. Can't go to work like that.'

'That's fine, Mum,' Ginny said, already worn out by her day so far. She leaned back against the sofa cushions and stretched her feet out in front of her. 'We can make a list at breakfast…'

* * *

Harry watched Ginny and Albus disappear and with a sigh, trudged upstairs to check on James. He laid the back of his hand against James' cheek, and frowned. He wasn't sure if James was running a fever or if he was just warm. He was like Ginny in that his temperature rose a bit when he slept. He pulled his wand from the pocket of his pajama bottoms, and pointed it in the direction of the door. '_Accio_ .' A small book zoomed into his outstretched hand, and he leafed through it, trying to find the charm that would allow him to check James' temperature.

He came to the section of minor healing spells and ran a finger down the page. '_Fervefacio revelio_,' he murmured, practicing the charm. He took a deep breath, and rested the tip of the wand behind James' exposed ear, and whispered the incantation. A bright green number floated in the air briefly over James' head. 'Damn,' Harry whispered. It was well above normal. He went into the bathroom, and grabbed a face cloth, soaking it in cool water. He took it back into James' room and began to run it over James' face. James mewed softly in protest, trying to turn his face away from the invasive cloth. Harry dropped into the armchair in the corner, and let his head fall into his hands. It wasn't as if James had never been sick before. He'd had colds and stomachaches, of course, but this was the first time he'd been seriously ill. It reminded him far too much of the days spent by Albus' cot when he was born. That feeling of choking helplessness welled up, threatening to overtake him.

He gingerly swiped the face cloth over the back of James' neck, wincing as it passed over the new welts beginning to surface on the tender skin. James squirmed away, scooting to the other side of the bed. 'All right, mate,' Harry told him softly. 'I'll be right back in a bit.' He went downstairs found a piece of parchment in the kitchen and scribbled a note to Shacklebolt. Someone would have to take over his trainee class that morning, and to have anything important sent to him by owl. He would have to try and get as much done from home as possible.

Harry glanced around the kitchen, toward the perch in the corner. Ginny's owl Ariel slept on the perch next to his larger snowy owl Dante, who was preening his wing feathers. Harry approached them, the scroll crackling in his tight grip. 'Heya, Dan,' he said, smoothing the feathers of the owl's head. 'I need you to take this to Kingsley for me…' Dante hooted imperiously, then softened it by nibbling Harry's finger affectionately. 'Thanks,' Harry told him, while he tied the letter to Dante's leg. 'I'll have some extra treats for you.' The owl head-butted Harry's arm briefly before he took flight.

Harry watched the owl against the hard, blue March sky for a moment before he turned to the stove and filled the kettle to make a cup of tea. While he waited for the water to boil, his stomach gurgled, reminding him it was past time for his breakfast. He fixed a few pieces of toast, and when his tea was ready, took it and the toast back up to James' room. James was sitting up, slumped against the wall, his face liberally dotted with green spots, and the greenish hue to his skin had spread over his cheeks, in a bizarre kind of blush. 'Don't feel good, Daddy,' James told his father. 'Feel icky.'

'I know, mate,' Harry said sympathetically. 'You don't look so good, either.'

'Where's Mummy?' James asked plaintively.

'She couldn't stay,' Harry said, sitting on the edge of the bed. 'She had to leave so she didn't get sick, too.'

James twisted the edge of the crumpled sheet. 'Can I have juice, Daddy?'

'Sure. Let me take your temperature, all right?' Harry pulled his wand out, and rested the tip behind James' ear. It was still the same as it had been earlier. Harry sighed in relief that it hadn't gone up, and pocketed the wand. 'I'll be right back,' he said. 'Don't go anywhere,' he instructed.

Harry dashed downstairs and poured some orange juice into a small cup for James, and opened a cupboard over the sink. They kept a few common medicinal potions there – painkilling, hangover… Harry peered into the depths of the cupboard. In a back corner, was one lone Fever-Reducing potion. He pulled the small vial out and blew off a layer of accumulated dust. Harry swiped a thumb over the label, and frowned. It had expired a year ago. 'Brilliant.' Harry rubbed a hand over his face. He'd have to try and call the Burrow later. Molly or Arthur could bring him some more.

Harry went up the stairs and handed the juice to James, who gulped it thirstily. 'You're in luck, Jemmy. No potion for you right now.'

James made a moue of distaste. 'Potions are yucky,' he pronounced.

'Yes, they are,' Harry agreed. 'But you'll have to have one later, I'm afraid.'

James held the half-empty glass out to Harry. 'Loo,' he said, sliding to the floor. James trudged to the door, stopping in the doorway, and turned to Harry. 'You stay here,' he commanded. 'Can do it myself.'

'Go right ahead,' Harry murmured, hiding his grin in his cup of tea. He set the cup down on the night table, and left the room, crossing the corridor to Albus' room. He pulled the rocking chair out of the room, and dragged it to James' room.

'You can use magic, you know,' a wry voice told him. 'Makes moving furniture easier, and I know how heavy that rocking chair is,' Arthur said.

Harry grinned deprecatingly. 'Slipped my mind. Forget you can use magic for the mundane.'

Arthur held out a parcel. 'Ginny didn't think you had any potions, so Molly sent me to pick up some for you before I went to work.'

'Oh, fantastic,' Harry breathed. 'We had one Fever-Reducing potion and it's gone off.'

'Molly's going to come round later, and pick up some clothes for Ginny and Albie.'

Harry nodded. 'I'll get some things together in a bit.'

The toilet in the bathroom flushed, and James opened the bathroom door. 'Grandad!' he exclaimed, shuffling to Arthur and hugging him around a leg. 'I'm green.'

Arthur tipped up James' chin a bit more. 'Yes, you are.' He swung James into his arms and headed into James' bedroom.

Harry followed, levitating the rocking chair, and set it down next the bed. James was sitting on the bed, leafing through a copy of _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_. He liked to pretend he could read, and often made up rambling, fantastical stories using the pictures, and was pointing out the stranger pictures to Arthur. 'So this is a wizarding disease, eh?' Harry asked.

'Yes.' Arthur glanced up at Harry. 'It rather depends on your blood-status to be honest,' he said with an embarrassed shrug. 'All purebloods get it. Usually between the ages of four and six, although some don't get it until they're ten or so. Sometimes they get it later than that, and it's a bit more dangerous, then.' He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow. 'Muggle-borns never get it. Half-bloods…' Arthur held up a hand and waggled it from side to side. 'Depends. Kind of a coin toss. If one of your parents is Muggle-born, like you, then you're probably not going to get it. If both parents are magic, and you have one or more Muggle grandparent, chances are you'll have dragon pox.'

'So I get to look forward to going through this twice more…' Harry gestured to James.

Arthur sat back a little, and his eyes closed, as he visualized the rather intricate family tree that now included Harry and his relatives. 'Absolutely.'

Harry sat in the rocking chair, and swayed a bit, his eyes narrowed as he gazed at James. 'How bad does it get?'

'This is pretty mild so far,' Arthur said. 'It'll probably get worse.' He patted James on the head. 'Look on the bright side. You don't have five of them with it all at once,' he told Harry cheerfully. 'Percy, George, Fred, Ron, and Gin all had it at the same time. When they were feeling better, and back to normal, Molly went to bed and slept for nearly two days.'

'That does not sound good,' Harry mumbled.

'Well, you've only got the wee fiend here,' Arthur snorted. 'But he might as well cause the chaos of at least three.'

'That didn't make me feel better,' Harry huffed.

'It's only bad for a few days,' Arthur assured him. 'They feel like they last for ages, though. Lots of sick child fussiness.' He gestured to the parcel Harry still held in his hands. 'There're enough doses of the Fever-Reducing potion for four days. That's how long the fever lasts. Usually. If it goes on longer than that, then take him in to St. Mungo's.'

Harry nodded. 'And the spots?'

Arthur trailed a finger down the back of James' neck. 'It takes a couple of days after the fever goes down for them to get to that lovely crusty stage,' he said ironically.

'Doesn't sound lovely,' Harry grumbled, an eye on James. He was unusually quiet, preferring to sit quietly among the bedding, looking at the comic book in his lap, listlessly turning the pages. 'Sounds quite disgusting, really.'

Arthur chuckled softly. 'And you can still call anything to do with children disgusting after two of them?' He shook his head incredulously. 'It's lovely because it means he's better.'

Harry leaned forward and snagged his tea from the night table. 'Crusty green spots, however much of a relief that might be, do not sound lovely.' He glanced at James, a smile curling up one corner of his mouth. 'But it'll be nice to have James back to normal.'

Arthur glanced at his watch. 'I need to go to work, but send an owl, Patronus, or what are those Muggle things that light up…? Fleers? No, flares!' he said triumphantly. 'If you need anything at all, son.'

Arthur stood up, and kissed James on top of his head, and went downstairs. Harry looked at James, who was starting to droop a little, feeling slightly unnerved at being left alone while James had a serious illness. 'Why don't you lie back down, mate? Have a lie-in. And maybe later, if you're feeling up to it, we can watch a film together.'

'Okay…' James slid back down into the bed, without even a token argument.

'Right, now I know you're sick,' Harry said ruefully, tucking the quilt around James. He shot a refilling charm at the cup of juice, and conjured a straw for it, and went downstairs to fix something more substantial than toast for breakfast.

* * *

Ginny slid into the chair in the press box with a sigh. She hated taking Portkeys, but it was the best way to get to Kenmare. She set her bag at her feet and dug through it, looking for her notebook. 'Ginny!' She looked up, to find Roger Davies sailing into the box.

'Hiya.' Ginny smiled in genuine pleasure. She liked Roger well enough. He didn't yak through the game like some people did, and he was sufficiently knowledgeable enough about Quidditch to write a decent article. 'What are you doing here?'

Roger dropped into the seat next to Ginny. '­_Which Broomstick_'s regular Quidditch writer's out with a cold, so I offered to step in.'

Ginny grinned. 'And what would the Quidditch editor of _Which Broomstick_ be writing about?'

Roger indicated the Kenmare Seeker. 'Theodore Brumley. Just got the new Nimbus 2010.' He sat back, crossing his ankles. 'Writing an article about it.'

Ginny sighed wistfully. 'I miss testing out the new brooms.' Her hand crept up and rested over the swell of her belly.

'Oh my. Ginny Potter…' The ingratiating voice shattered the camaraderie of the press box.

'Romilda.' Ginny felt her smile stretch into a grimace. Romilda Vane worked for _Witch Weekly_ as a photographer.

'Oh, don't you two look positively darling,' Romilda exclaimed sweetly. 'Let me get a picture.' Before Ginny or Roger could protest, Romilda held up a camera, and snapped a photograph. She lowered the camera and gave Ginny a patently false look of surprise. 'Why , Ginny, you sly thing, you. Are you trying to be like your parents, and keep trying until you have a girl?'

Roger's mouth fell open in shock. Ginny, however, smiled congenially. 'Well, actually, Romilda, after that pixie infestation, we're just hoping it's human.' Her smile grew wider, as Roger unsuccessfully tried to mask a laugh as a cough. Ginny's sat back in satisfaction, as Romilda's mouth worked soundlessly like a fish, before she fled the press box.

'Oh, that was brilliant, Ginny,' Roger chuckled approvingly.

'All in a day's work,' Ginny said with a smirk. 'I've never liked her. Been dying to find something to make her shut up.'

* * *

Harry jerked away from the bright light that bled through his closed eyelids. He opened them to slits, and saw a large, brightly silver mare standing patiently at the foot of James' bed. He sat up, his back protesting as he straightened up. 'Home,' it said in Ginny's voice. It sounded rough with weariness. Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to massage the kinks out of it he'd earned from sleeping in the rocking chair. He'd spent most of the day, sitting next to James' bed in the rocking chair. He heaved himself to his feet, and stumbled into the corridor and fell into his bed. He slowly exhaled and pulled his glasses off, dropping them on the night table.

It wasn't the first night he'd gone to bed without Ginny. There were all those nights when she played professionally when he wasn't able to attend. The nights he'd spent working on cases. The nights when she covered a game for the paper and the game lasted for hours, well into the wee hours of the morning. 'It's only for a week,' he mumbled into his pillow.

It may only have been a week, but it loomed like a year.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows play across the white space over the bed. Cursing under his breath, he threw the quilt back, and got up. Harry lurched into the corridor and scooped James up from his bed, and carried the sleeping child into his and Ginny's bedroom. He tucked James into Ginny's side of the bed, unwilling to spend the night sleeping in the rocking chair, and unable to sleep without keeping watch over James.

Not that he slept much that night.

James tossed and turned, sleeping fitfully, his small hands and feet nudging Harry in the chest and stomach. For his part, Harry kept waking up in order to check James' temperature. At four, he tipped a potion down James' throat, only for James to throw it up all over Harry, the bed, and himself. Harry peeled off James' sticky pajamas, throwing them into the laundry basket in the corner, before pulling an old t-shirt from his wardrobe and tugging it over James' head. He silently wished he had Molly's ability to change bedding with a flick of his wand, as he dragged the bedding off the bed and changed his own clothing. In a few minutes, James was tucked into his own bed, and Harry was sitting at the table, his head propped in his hands, a cup of tea steaming gently in front of him.

The soft _tap-tap_ of the owl that brought the newspaper tore him out of his reverie. Harry got up and trudged to the window, taking it from the owl, and putting a few Knuts into the pouch on its other leg. He opened the paper and it slid slowly from his hands, landing on the floor at his feet with a whisper reminiscent of leaves. He blinked uncomprehendingly at the large photograph of Ginny next to Roger Davies.

_It's just a photograph. He works for __Which Broomstick__. It's nothing._

Harry stooped and picked up the paper. 'Romilda Vane,' he sighed. 'Damn.'

* * *

Ginny opened her eyes. Harry's head was in the middle of the fireplace. 'Hi!' she said brightly. 'How's James?' She slid off the sofa and knelt on the hearth rug.

'James is all right. He's thrown up two vials of Fever-Reducing potion all over me, but I finally got one to stay down.'

'Mixed it in his juice?' Ginny guessed.

'Yeah.' Harry rubbed his eyes. 'Should have done that the first time, but it was late. Or early, depending on how you want to look at it. But I wasn't thinking clearly.'

'I probably wouldn't have thought to put it in his juice, either,' Ginny said with a smile.

Harry fidgeted nervously. 'Did you see the paper today?'

'Yeah.' Ginny toyed with the hem of her nightdress. 'She's not worth getting upset about, Harry. The whole thing is not worth getting upset about.'

'I know.'

'It's her way of getting back at me,' Ginny admitted.

'For what?'

'She made some catty remark about you and me trying for a girl.'

'You let that bother you?' Harry shifted on the hearth rug until he was in a more comfortable position.

'No. It was when she insulted Mum and Dad, that I got upset.' Ginny heaved a sigh, and looked at Harry. 'So I said something like you and I were just hoping it was human, due to a nasty pixie infestation.' When Harry didn't reply, Ginny continued, 'It was a joke, Harry.'

'I know.' Harry rolled his head around, making his neck pop. 'It's just rotten timing, what with me being here with James, and you having to be away. Just doesn't look good.'

Stung, Ginny sat up. 'If I didn't have to leave, I wouldn't have.'

'I know, Gin.' Harry rubbed the back of his neck. 'Let's just leave it. For now, all right?'

And with that, he pulled his head from the fireplace, leaving Ginny staring at the glowing coals in the grate.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to Laura Walden for letting me use her 'we're hoping it's human' line. :)


	7. Half Measures

Charlie took his seat at the table in the Burrow's kitchen, across from where Harry and Ginny normally sat. Except this Sunday, Harry was conspicuously absent from the table. Remembering the furor he'd ignited a couple of years ago asking after Harry's whereabouts, Charlie caught Ginny's eye, and flicked his dark blue eyes to the empty chair next to her, inclining his head in inquiry. Ginny bit her lip and sighed, taking a spoonful of peas from the nearby bowl and adding them to the small plate placed in front of Albus' high chair. 'James has dragon pox,' she said in an undertone. She looked down at Albus, carefully using a thumb and index finger to deposit a pea in his spoon. 'We're here for the week.'

'Ah.' Charlie picked up a slice of the joint of beef that passed his way. 'Um, so that photograph in the paper yesterday?'

'It was completely innocent,' Ginny huffed, tired of feeling like she had to defend herself in this way.

'I know that,' Charlie said. 'I was just wondering when did the _Prophet_ become such a gossip rag? They haven't printed anything remotely like that in nearly ten years.'

Ginny laughed bitterly. 'You'd think I'd know not to basically tell what amounts to a features writer to piss off by now. Roger and I were just chatting before the game started, and Romilda Vane made a comment that didn't sit well with me. I let her know in no uncertain terms to keep her comments to herself.'

'So she's making up rubbish as payback, eh?' Charlie tore a bread roll in half and buttered it thoughtfully.

Ron fork clattered to his plate in surprise. 'Wait… Isn't that the same Romilda Vane from school who spiked a box of Chocolate Cauldrons with a love potion…?'

'Daddy, what's a love potion?' Victoire asked.

Bill closed his eyes briefly, thinking of what lay ahead for him, wondering if Molly and Arthur hadn't had it easier by having boys for the most part. 'Something you and your sister are never going to need,' he told her. _Godric help me_…

'Why?' Maddie asked confusedly.

'Because you two are definitely your mother's daughters,' Bill sighed.

Fleur wiped Alexander's mouth off with a towel, before indignantly retorting, 'Would you prefer zat our _bébés_ were ugly?'

Bill nudged a carrot closer to Nicholas, contemplating the faces of his sons. 'No,' he said. 'But I think I'll let you wait until the boys are old enough to be interested in girls before I explain it to you…'

'Yes, Ron,' Ginny said, picking up the loose thread of conversation. 'Same one.'

'I thought she worked for _Witch Weekly_…' George said bemused. 'Not the _Prophet_.'

'She does,' muttered Katie. 'She's horrid.' Katie's face scrunched distastefully. 'If she's not running to the editor with some perceived slight against her, she's telling everyone how much better she does this or that, or trolls the corridors for information about people to put in her "column".' Katie's fingers made exaggerated motions in the air, drawing quotes around the word. 'You should see the employee lounge when she comes in. Goes silent faster than a class of first years when McGonagall walked into a room.'

'That's impressive,' Hermione commented.

'Yeah, well, nobody wants to see what they said in the magazine.' Katie reached between Fred and Jacob and snatched the spoon they were loading with mashed potatoes, preparatory to flinging them at Isabella who was across the table from them. 'Don't even _think_ about it, you two,' she warned darkly. Jacob's lower lip thrust forward in an impressive pout, while Fred's round eyes filled with tears. 'Haven't you learned yet that doesn't work on me?' she idly asked her sons. 'Try your father, though,' Katie added cheerfully.

'That's not fair, Katherine Patricia Weasley!' George cried.

'It's perfectly fair, George.' Katie seemed unperturbed by George's use of her full name. 'You know you can't resist them when they pout.'

'Uh-oh. Someone's going to be in trouble,' sang Percy softly.

'Shut up, Percy,' George growled irritably.

'Anyway,' Katie said pointedly. 'The point is, Romilda Vane is a vindictive bi – witch,' she finished smoothly.

'Nice save,' Bronwyn murmured.

'Thank you,' Katie said, beaming at Bronwyn.

Ginny nodded, but kept her gaze on her plate, moving the food around listlessly. Ron glanced down the table. If he knew Harry as well as he thought he did, the photograph with its insinuating blurb had roused Harry's deep-seated suspicion of most of the press with a vengeance. Ron had seen the photograph yesterday himself. Ginny and Roger sat side-by-side, a little stiffly, smiling uneasily, trying not to look directly into the camera. Ron knew Ginny well enough to know the whole thing had upset her far more than she let on. Ron always considered Harry to be far more tolerant than he could have been with Ginny's profession. When she'd played, even though the Harpies were an all-female team, professional Quidditch was still somewhat of a male-dominated sport. As were the people who wrote about it. Harry wasn't nearly the jealous type that Ron was, but Ron knew the allegations in the blurb must have hit Harry below the belt, despite the byline that accompanied it.

He finished his lunch without tasting it and began to help Molly clear the table, intending to slip out in a bit and pay a visit to his brother-in-law. He saw a perfect opportunity arise when Molly began to load a plate with food and cover it with a piece of Muggle cling film. 'Is that for Harry?' Ron asked, indicating the plate.

'Yes. I was going to have your father take it over later.'

Ron picked up the plate and hefted it in one hand. 'That's rather a lot of food,' he commented. 'Do you think he's going to starve?'

'He needs a good meal,' Molly said setting the dishes to scrub.

'Harry does know how to cook, Mum.' Ron set the plate on the section of the table he'd just wiped.

'He's hardly in a position to worry about cooking,' Molly sniffed. 'Caring for a sick child.'

Ron eyed the plate for a moment. 'When were you going to have Dad take this over?'

Molly contemplated the food thoughtfully. 'In a little while.'

'I'll take it,' Ron volunteered, seeing the opening he needed. 'I'll go right now.' He picked up the plate and went out into the chilly garden to Apparate to Harry's house.

* * *

Harry looked up from his book when he heard the back door open. He set the book down, glancing at James, who was sleeping in his bed. He got to his feet, and pulled his wand from his pocket in one smooth motion. He crept down the first few stairs, his back flat to wall, his wand held loosely in his hand. Harry lightly descended the stairs and whispered, '_Homenum revelio_.' The kitchen door glowed red briefly, then faded.

'Harry?' Ron's voice called though the door. 'I've brought some food.'

Harry sighed, and pushed the door open. 'Thanks,' he said tiredly. 'Doubt I could be bothered to open a tin of soup right now.'

Ron laughed to himself. 'That's what Mum thought.'

Harry dropped into a chair and peeled the cling film off the plate, Summoning a fork from the drawer. 'Tell her thank you for me?'

'Sure.' Ron gestured to the ceiling. 'How is it, then?'

Harry scooped a forkful of peas, shrugging. 'All right, I guess. I don't have much experience with dragon pox. When Teddy had it I was working on a case and wasn't here for it.' He slowly chewed the peas and swallowed them before continuing. 'The only good thing I can say is that Jemmy sleeps a lot, so he's not able to scratch the spots very much.'

'You look like something Crookshanks dragged in from the garden,' Ron told Harry bluntly.

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up. 'Thanks, mate.' He shrugged nonchalantly. 'Haven't slept much. Keeping waking up to check his temperature or coax him into taking a potion.' Harry stole a glance at Ron. 'How's Ginny?' he asked with studied casualness.

'The usual. Trying to pretend it's not bothering her.'

Harry ate a few bites, nodding. 'Yeah, she was pretty upset at having to leave the other day.'

Ron rubbed his nose. 'That, too,' he agreed. 'She's really upset about the paper.'

'Yeah…' Harry dropped the fork. 'I kind of overreacted a bit.' He slowly exhaled. 'Just too many memories of dealing with people like that…' He picked up his fork once more and resumed his meal. 'It wasn't the photograph so much as what Romilda Vane wrote with it.' He shook his head. 'I've worked too hard to give my children something that resembles a normal life and I don't want mine and Ginny's private life splashed all over the front of the paper, damn it.' He threw the fork on the table. 'And when somebody finds out Ginny's not here, people are going to make all sorts of assumptions about us, based on that bloody photograph! And it's just going to get worse, and those kinds of fools will spend the next several months harassing us, and following us around every time we step foot in Diagon Alley.' Harry pushed the plate to the center of the table. 'I tried to say that last night, just didn't come out that way…'

'Obviously,' Ron snorted. 'Let me guess – you saw that photo first thing in the morning, stewed about it all day, then called Ginny last night when both of you were too tired to deal with it properly.'

Harry leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its back legs, crossing his arms over his chest. 'Maybe.'

'There's no "maybe" about it,' Ron laughed. 'I know you. You fumed over that bloody gossip all day, then called Gin, and I'm sure _she_ worried about it all day.' Ron's hands spread apart in an encompassing gesture. 'Perfect storm.'

'Yeah, that's about it,' Harry admitted.

Ron tilted his head toward the door. 'Go talk to her. I'll stay here and keep an eye on James.'

Harry frowned doubtfully. 'I don't know…'

'We'll be fine,' Ron insisted. 'Go do it now, while both of you aren't completely worn out.'

'Why are you going on so much about me talking to Gin?'

'And people say I'm thick,' Ron sighed. 'If you wait until tonight to talk to her, both of you will be tired, and say something you don't mean,' he explained patiently.

Harry stared at Ron for several moments. 'When did you get to be so smart about this sort of thing?' he said finally.

'Lots of practice,' Ron chuckled. 'I reckon all those years of pulling one foot out of my mouth, only to cram the other one in finally taught me a thing or two.'

Harry lifted his coat from its hook by the door. 'Thanks, Ron.' He started to open the door, but stopped. 'Are you sure you'll be all right with James?'

'Yeah.' Ron made shooing motions with his hand. 'Go.'

Harry stepped through the door. 'I owe you one, mate.' He trudged through the garden gate, and Apparated to the Burrow.

* * *

Ginny escaped the crowded sitting room with a gasp of relief. It was insanely hot and stuffy in there. She wasn't sure how Hermione could stand it, given that she was nearly eight months pregnant. Ginny jabbed her wand at one of the kitchen windows, making it fly upward, sighing in bliss as the chilly March wind wafted through the window. She went into the deserted scullery and hoisted herself up to the sturdy table just inside the door, sliding back until her back rested against the wall. Ginny's eyes closed and she sat quietly, just taking a moment to _breathe_ without feeling small hands tugging at the hem of her jumper, or clinging to her leg. Between James and Albus, she often had company no matter what she did, from needing to use the toilet to taking a shower, or while she tried to finish an article for the paper or one of her freelance pieces from home.

Not that she would trade anything about her life for anything, but occasionally, Ginny just wanted to do something as basic as go to the loo by herself. Without an audience.

_I should get back to the others_, she thought guiltily. Sighing with no small amount of regret, Ginny's eyes fluttered open, and she was met with the sight of Harry standing in front of the scullery windows. She sat upright, wheezing as she bit back a startled yelp.

Ginny scooted off the table and opened the back door. 'What are you doing here?' Is it James?' she asked fearfully.

'No, James is fine. Ron's watching him.' When Ginny's eyebrow rose, Harry added, 'He brought some food over.' Harry gestured to the muddy garden. 'Can you come out for a bit? To talk?'

Ginny glanced over her shoulder toward the sitting room, and darted out the back door without another thought. They trudged down to the stone wall that separated the paddock from the garden, neither of them wanting to say anything until they were well away from the prying eyes of the family. 'I didn't think she was going to insinuate that you and I were having problems,' Ginny said as she perched on the edge of the wall.

Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. 'I mean, the people who really matter know she's just talking rubbish, right?'

'Yeah…' Ginny ran her hands through her hair. 'I didn't think there could be someone else who could approach the level of foulness that Skeeter did. It appears I was wrong.' She squeezed her eyes shut. 'I'm sorry… I shouldn't have risen to her bait.'

'That makes two of us,' Harry said quietly. 'Although, given that she's demonstrated she's not above being sneaky and underhanded before…'

'How did she get Sorted into Gryffindor?' Ginny asked exasperatedly. 'She ought to have been a bloody Slytherin.'

'She's got balls, that's for sure.' Harry smiled grimly. 'I'll have a word with Peter Manderly, though; about turning the _Prophet_ into something I'm not sure I'd want my owl to relieve himself on.'

'It is a society column,' Ginny pointed out. 'And whether or not we like it, you and I are society news.'

'Look, Gin, I believe newspapers ought to be able to report and comment on what's happening in the world. I really don't want the _Prophet_ to go back to being a Ministry-controlled rag, but that crossed the line. Manderly printed it with no proof, other than Vane's bloody photograph. If anybody even bothers to look at the damn thing, it's obvious neither of you wanted to be photographed.'

'Some might argue that just means we were caught.'

'I suppose.' Harry stood up. 'And people are going to believe what they want, too, regardless of the facts in front of them.'

'That's just human nature.' Ginny stretched tiredly and joined Harry in standing. 'Look at it this way. Next week, it'll be someone else.'

'I hope you're right,' Harry muttered. 'I'll walk you back up to the apple tree.' He took Ginny's hand and led her back to the house.

'How's James?' Ginny asked.

'Oh, he's sleeping a lot. That fever potion puts him to sleep in no time.'

'Still putting it in his juice?'

'Nope. Milk. He was starting to notice the juice was a little thicker than it should be. If you add it to milk, it doesn't change the texture as much. Drinks it right down.'

Ginny's fingers glided over Harry's face. 'You don't look like you've slept much.'

'I'm all right,' Harry stated. 'It'll be over in a few more days.'

'I should be there,' Ginny sighed.

'Gin…'

'I know… I can't.'

Harry stopped behind the towering apple tree, and tipped Ginny's face up. 'I'll call you tomorrow, all right?' At Ginny's nod, Harry wrapped his arms around her. 'I'm sorry if I upset you last night…'

'Me, too.' Ginny buried her face in the front of Harry's coat.

Harry let his face rest on top of Ginny's head for a moment. 'Better go back in before they realize you've gone.'

Reluctantly, Ginny released Harry and turned and walked back into the house.

* * *

Ginny held the small lamp over the cot, peering at Albus' flushed cheeks. She ran a fingertip over his face, checking for the welts that might signify dragon pox. If Albus was still healthy tomorrow, she wouldn't have to worry about it. If he was going to come down with it, it would happen a few days after James. So far, his skin was still smooth and cool to the touch. Ginny exhaled slowly and lowered herself into the small rocking chair next to the cot.

'Is he all right?' Molly asked.

Ginny nodded. She began to rock, watching Albus sleep. 'I remember the night James was born and they put him in my arms, and in that instant everything I ever believed changed.' Ginny looked up at Molly and smiled crookedly. 'I never understood quite what you meant when you said you would do whatever it took to protect us, even kill,' she said quietly. 'And when I held James the first time, I knew I'd do the same thing, if it kept him safe.'

'You can't protect them from everything,' Molly chided gently. She conjured a chair for herself and sat down. 'It's frustrating to watch them get sick, isn't it?'

'Unbelievably,' Ginny replied.

'It was the only time I ever felt helpless as a mother,' Molly said. 'Fighting Dark wizards at least let me _do_ something.'

Ginny slouched in the chair. 'Yeah. And with this, all I can do is watch. That's not exactly protecting him, is it?'

Molly indicated Ginny's rounded belly. 'You're protecting that one. And Albus.'

Ginny's hand spread over her abdomen. 'I keep wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent it…'

Molly shook her head. 'Sometimes, you can do everything you think you can do. But it's not enough,' she said pensively.

Ginny opened her mouth to ask what her mother was talking about, but then closed it, turning her attention to Albus to cover her expression. She knew that Molly was speaking of Fred.

Molly shook herself briskly. 'Right, then. I'm going to bed. Let me know if you need anything.'

'I will.' Ginny accepted her mother's kiss and watched her leave the bedroom. She turned to the cot and slipped her hand through the slats, stroking Albus' hair. 'I hope you never have to do something like that,' she whispered. 'Any of you.'

* * *

A/N: I have no idea what Katie's middle name is, or even if JKR meant for Katie to be a nickname, so I decided to give her a middle name, and that Katie is short for Katherine.

And if you're new to my universe, I know that JKR has George with Angelina, but in my head I kept hearing, 'That's not how your brother did it...' Um, yeah...


	8. Innuendo

Ron pulled a blanket over Rose before the held out a hand to Hermione, who took it gratefully, as he helped pull her to her feet. 'Are you sure you've got five weeks left?' he asked doubtfully. 'You look like you're going to pop.'

'I've had three different Healers who specialize in obstetrics verify the due date. Five more weeks,' she sighed. 'Where did you disappear to earlier?'

'Took a plate of food over to Harry. He looked like he was going to fall over.' Ron brought Hermione's hand to his lips and kissed the palm. 'I'm so very glad you're Muggle-born, hen.'

'Why is that?' she asked, amused.

'We will not have to deal with dragon pox with Rosie or Hugo. Thanks to you.'

'How bad is it?' Hermione eased back on their bed, sighing as she swung her feet off the floor and lay back against the pillows.

Ron thought for a moment, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, and dropped it on the floor next to the bed. 'It's awful,' he told her. 'Lots of little green spots all over. Even his skin looks a little green. Thankfully, whatever potion Harry's been giving James makes him drowsy, so he sleeps a lot.'

'Fever-Reducing potion, I imagine,' Hermione yawned.

'Yeah, and some ointment for the spots. It's supposed to keep them from itching, but Harry thinks it's just to make the parents feel better that they're doing something.'

Hermione snorted. 'Whatever works, I guess.' She began to squirm as she tried to yank her nightdress off. 'Hot,' she grunted.

Ron wheezed, 'Are you trying to kill me?'

Hermione paused in the act of rearranging the bedding so less of it was on her side of the bed. 'What?'

Ron rolled over and ran his fingertips down her recently bared skin. 'This.'

Hermione burst out laughing. 'Are you kidding me? I'm roughly the size of a hippogriff, and you want to shag?'

Ron whimpered softly in the back of his throat. 'Mione, seriously…' He shifted uncomfortably, plucking at the front of his suddenly too-tight boxers.

Her eyebrow slowly arched as she tugged the sheet leisurely down past Ron's hips. 'So it seems you find extremely pregnant women attractive,' she said dryly.

'Just one,' Ron said hoarsely. He shuddered when Hermione's hand slipped inside his boxers. 'Oh, God, please…' he begged.

Hermione chuckled. 'Well, since you said "please".'

*****

Ginny peered into the dimly lit main room of the Leaky Cauldron, looking for Katie and Hermione. They tried to meet during the week, without their children in tow, for lunch. Hannah usually tried to keep a table tucked into back corner reserved for them. George had once said they sounded like a flock of hens with all the cackling and wondered what they talked about. Katie just smiled enigmatically at him and patted his cheek.

The others weren't there yet, so with a wave to Hannah, Ginny trudged toward the half-hidden table in the back. A young barman brought her a glass of water. 'The usual, Mrs. Potter?' he asked quietly.

Ginny nodded. 'But could you wait until the others arrive?'

'Sure thing, ma'am,' he said cheerfully. He went back behind the bar, leaving Ginny alone.

Walking down Diagon Alley had given her the beginnings of a headache. People kept whispering when she walked by, even in the offices of the _Prophet_. She ignored them the best she could, but the effort of holding her tongue when she wanted to snap at them made her tense. 'Ginny!'

_Oh, God, not her…_ Ginny moaned to herself. Lavender Brown waved energetically as she crossed the room. 'Hello, Lavender,' she said neutrally.

Lavender pulled out a chair and plopped into it, heedless of Ginny's mutinous expression. 'So, I read in the paper Saturday,' she clucked. 'It's the job, isn't it?' she whispered, leaning close to Ginny. 'Long hours and he's away a lot,' she added sympathetically.

Ginny massaged the bridge of her nose. 'We're not having problems,' she stated emphatically. 'Romilda's being vindictive…' she sighed.

'Oh?' Lavender said archly. 'That's not what I heard.' She leaned a little closer, her voice lowered. 'I saw Parvati the other day, and _she_ told me that Harry's been closeting himself away with one of his Aurors at the Ministry.'

Ginny's hand fell to the table with an audible slap. 'And how would Parvati know? She doesn't work in the Ministry.'

Lavender sat back, a small smile playing on her lips. 'One of her regular customers at her shop is the assistant to the Head of the Obliviator department. He told her.'

'Still passing herself off as a Seer, eh?' Ginny snorted. 'You both ought to know better than to give any credence to Ministry gossip.' She took a sip of her water. 'If something was going on, I'd know.'

Lavender sneered slightly. 'You think Hermione would tell you if Harry was sniffing around elsewhere?' Her lip curled slightly; making the scars on her face stand out in spite of the cosmetics she wore to hide them. 'If you believe she and Harry don't have anything on the side…'

'I'd really rethink that last statement of yours if I were you,' said a voice behind Lavender. Ginny glanced up to see Hermione standing there, radiating indignation, her arms folded over her swollen abdomen. Katie stood slightly behind her, her hand over her mouth. The handle of Hermione's wand peeped above the edge of her bag. It wouldn't take much for her to whip it out of the bag and cast some sort of nonverbal hex on Lavender.

Lavender flushed and pushed the chair back. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and let her eyes rake Hermione slowly from her toes to her head. She smirked then strolled away. Hermione took the vacated chair, setting her bag on the floor. 'I don't know how I shared a room with her for six years without smacking her a good one.'

Katie laughed for real. 'You could have done it in the common room and sold tickets. The entire boys' side would have paid every last Knut in their pockets to see it.'

Hermione smiled fleetingly, then gazed at Ginny soberly. 'You really don't believe any of that rubbish, do you?'

Ginny shook her head. 'Of course not,' she said firmly.

Hermione shook her head in wonder. 'According to Lavender and Parvati, Ron, Harry, and I had some sort of twisted three-way thing going on in school.' Hermione shuddered delicately. 'No offense, Gin, but Harry's not my type.'

'None taken,' Ginny replied wryly.

'Would have been like kissing my brother anyway,' Hermione added with a comical look of distaste.

Katie twisted her wedding ring around her finger a few times, her fingertips gliding over the vines carved over the band. 'She asked to have _Witch Weekly_ publish that piece of garbage at our staff meeting yesterday,' she said, not having to clarify who "she" was. 'I told the editor if he did that, I'd resign on the spot,' she said bluntly. 'So did half the features writers.' She smiled humorlessly. 'It was that or lose a quarter of the staff.'

'You don't have to do that,' Ginny argued, but feeling a slight sense of gratitude that so many others objected to it.

'I know,' Katie said simply, signaling the barman. 'We wanted to. Even the _Witch Weekly_ ought to have some sort of journalistic standards. The last thing most of us want is for it to become some sort of slushy rag. None of us would have wanted to be there if the descent began.'

'Thanks, Katie.'

The barman brought their lunches and the conversation turned to more mundane matters, like Sophie's new tooth and whether or not Ron and Hermione would have another baby after Hugo was born, and Ginny efforts to try and convince Harry to undergo a little procedure that would ensure they wouldn't have any more children.

It was pleasantly normal.

*****

Harry stretched out in his bed, groaning softly as he pulled the bedding over his body. James' fever had broken earlier that day, resulting in yet another barrage of laundry. Harry didn't think one small almost-four-year old could produce such copious amounts of sweat, but he was wrong. Almost as soon as he changed James' sweat-soaked pajamas for dry ones, the fresh pair was soaked through. Harry eventually had to start dressing James in his t-shirts, because all of James' pajamas were piled in a laundry basket in the corridor. He could hear the clothes dryer humming softly in the scullery. _At least he wasn't vomiting_, Harry thought. He would take the sweat over the vomiting any day, because it signaled James was getting better, and Ginny and Albus could come home soon.

Harry dropped his glasses on the night table and yawned. Something had been bothering Ginny, but she kept assuring him she was fine. Harry knew better. She kept twisting her wedding ring around her finger. It was one of Ginny's "tells", much like how Ron's ears grew red when he was trying to lie. It was subtle, but Harry knew Ginny far to well for him not to notice it. He mentally reviewed Ginny's work schedule and realized it had been one of her days to go into the office. Someone must have said something at the paper. Harry chuckled ironically to himself. He could practically hear Ginny say, 'Nice trick. Did they teach you that in your Auror training program?' She usually huffed or snorted it, when he pointed out the obvious. Then again, if she hadn't gone straight to the paper, then home, it could have been anyone.

It wasn't a topic Harry cared to bring up through a Floo connection.

Sighing, he rolled over and slung an arm over Ginny's pillow. Maybe everything was fine, and Harry was just looking for things that weren't there. Maybe it had nothing to do with that bloody article. Maybe someone at the paper was making snide comments about her pregnancy. She hadn't been back at work a year, and soon, she was going to take off at least six months again. There were a million other things that could have been worrying Ginny.

Harry sometimes rued his choice of profession. It wasn't the job itself he minded. No, it was the instinctive searching of dark corners that made him want to smack himself with a Beater's bat, when there wasn't anything there.

*****

Ginny dropped her bag at her feet and settled at her desk, pulling her notebook out to edit her article about next week's match between the Harpies and Montrose. Ginny reread what she'd written the day before, and ended up crossing out most of it. She scribbled quietly, rewriting the part of the article that focused on Montrose. She didn't like their new Seeker. He was something of a bully, having spent the majority of his career with Falmouth, who were infamous for their rough style of play. Ginny's opinion of the Magpies' captain had dropped several notches when they acquired him from Falmouth a few weeks ago. It wasn't her job to comment on those kinds of things. Not in the pages of the _Prophet_. What she had written that morning was nothing more than a running commentary questioning the Montrose captain's sanity. Her job was to write a preview of the game next week, not pass judgment on another player. _I'm a better reporter than that_, Ginny thought.

The whispers that had followed her to the fifth floor ceased when she stepped off the lift. The others in the sports department didn't read the society page and couldn't have cared less about it. They hated that part of it so much, that covering any sort of social event for Quidditch fell to the younger reporters or interns. It was a welcome respite from the worried glances her mother had been throwing her way and the murmurs that arose as she passed people in Diagon Alley. Roger's wife had written a letter to the editor, oozing with pique over the photograph, demanding he retract the vile statements, insinuating Roger was having an affair with Ginny. Manderly hadn't done it yet and Cecilia Davies was ready to sue, if Ginny could believe what she heard from Hermione. Cecilia had been to the Ministry raising a hue and cry, trying to find out what her legal options were. She didn't have many, since unlike Rita Skeeter; Romilda didn't set out to report it as news, but in the gossip column.

Satisfied the article walked the line between neutrality and opinion, based on previous games, Ginny began to copy it onto a piece of parchment to hand in for the next morning's edition. She worked steadily, since Harry had called the Burrow that morning with the news that James was officially no longer contagious. Ginny wanted to make it home before dinner. She was deep in her own thoughts, changing words here and there as she worked, and didn't see Eleanor wend through the haphazard warren of desks and stop at Ginny's. 'Ginny, can you come into my office for a bit?'

Ginny felt her heart sink in dismay. 'Sure,' she said, pushing her chair back and following Eleanor to her office.

'Close the door,' Eleanor said. 'We could use some privacy.' She rummaged on her messy desk, looking for something. 'So…'

'Are you suspending me?' Ginny blurted.

Eleanor looked up in surprise. 'Why on earth would I do that?' she asked. 'You're one of my best reporters.'

'With all the distraction…' Ginny said weakly, sitting on the edge of a chair in front of Eleanor's desk.

Eleanor snorted in derision. 'I told Manderly if he wanted to print that kind of trash, he ought to just rehire Skeeter and get it over with. Kind of hard to work from Azkaban, though, eh?' She located Ginny's file and pulled it out from under a pile of stories that needed her attention for the next day. 'Here it is.' She turned a few paged. 'So, I thought we'd get a jump on settling your leave this time. In case this one decides to make an early entrance, too.'

'Oh…' Ginny shoulders slumped in relief.

'When are you due? Early August?'

'Yeah.'

'Hmmmm.' Eleanor tapped a calendar with her wand, pulling up the month of July. 'Good time to have a baby. Season hasn't started yet and it's mostly reporting on the new team and practices and training games.'

'I planned it this way just for that reason,' Ginny said dryly.

'So, how does the middle of July sound for you to start your leave?'

'Fine.'

Eleanor scribbled a note in Ginny's file. 'Six months or a year?'

'Why don't you put me down for six months, and I'll let you know in January if I've started ripping my hair out and want to come back.'

'It doesn't have to be a full year, you know,' Eleanor commented. 'After the six months, if you want to come back on a part-time basis, we can work something out.'

'How?' Ginny frowned doubtfully.

'Cover a game if the regular reporter is sick, or write the preview, or you could even do the commentary article. You can do that from home, pretty much. Maybe go to a few practice sessions for that, but it's not an all-day thing like the game previews would be.'

'I'll have to think about it,' Ginny said slowly.

'Take your time. You've got until next January.' Eleanor gazed at Ginny for a moment. 'It's rough, being a female in a male-dominated profession like this.' When Ginny's eyes narrowed, Eleanor continued smoothly, 'I'm not offering sympathy. But it's difficult when you haven't been back a full year to find yourself having to contemplate taking another year off, and knowing what that might mean for your career.' She leaned back in her chair, propping her feet on the corner of the desk. 'You have the makings of a good editor one day, Ginny. And I don't want some perceived lack of seniority to hold you back.'

'I don't want special treatment,' Ginny stubbornly maintained.

'Good, because I'm not giving you any,' retorted Eleanor. 'I'm doing for you what I'd do for anyone that I thought deserved this. In your case, it's working around a baby. If it was Rob, I'd move him off the Cannons and onto a team, like Montrose.' She set her feet on the floor. 'Now go get that article finished, so you can go home.'

'Thanks, Eleanor,' Ginny said, standing up with a small smile. Home indeed. As soon as she was done, she was going to collect Albus from the Burrow and go home.

*****

Ginny brushed her teeth, chuckling to herself. She had decided "home" was some nostalgic thing that always sounded much rosier than it was in person. When she was at the Burrow, she dreamed about the house that was now her home. It was much neater, without the odd draft in Harry's office during the blustery spring weather, and the boys got on much better with each other. Ginny spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. _Well, it's a nice dream, at any rate._

The dream had lasted as long as it took Albus to get a good look at James' liberally spotted face. If either Harry or Ginny had thought dragon pox looked bad in its earlier stages, the crusty stage James was in looked worse. Albus toddled closer to James to get a good look at his older brother's face, and promptly burst into tears, refusing to go anywhere near James. He'd run back to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her knees, and burying his face in her thigh. As long as Harry or Ginny was between Albus and James, Albus didn't cry. James turned it into a game by repeatedly inching closer to Albus; making him whimper in fear, then scoot away with a not-so-innocent grin when Ginny or Harry growled a warning.

In an effort to keep James from scratching the welts, Harry had Spellotaped James' mittens to his hands. Ginny had just given Harry a look, one to which he'd replied, 'If you can think of a better way to keep his hands off the spots, you're welcome to try it.'

Ginny dug a bottle out of her bag. 'Here, Bronwyn brought this from Holyhead's infirmary Sunday. Says it helps the welts go away faster. They use it on the reservation since the mild cases don't bother to go to St. Mungo's. She says it smells like arse, but it works.' James quite enjoyed the stench, reinforcing Ginny's idea that the smellier something was, the more boys liked it. It explained why George and Ron sold so many of the innocuous-looking fake insects, filled with Garroting Gas, that when stepped on, filled a room, or school corridor, with a noxious odor. Ginny had kept a running tally when she worked at the shop the summer before her seventh year. All of those Stinkbugs, as Ron dubbed them, were bought by boys. On the other hand, Albus didn't like strong scents, so he stayed well clear of James.

With a sigh, Ginny rinsed her toothbrush and dropped it into the cup on the counter by the sink. After they had put the boys to bed, Harry had gone downstairs to do some paperwork that had been neglected the past week, while Ginny had a bath. She hoped he wouldn't be long.

When she opened the door, Harry was already stretched out on the bed, propped up on the pillows stacked against the headboard. He was naked, save for the large red bow he'd tied around his neck. 'Nice ribbon,' Ginny commented, walking toward the bed, trying to keep a straight face.

'I thought I'd give you a proper welcome home,' Harry said.

'Well, that explains the bow, then,' Ginny giggled.

'I thought it was a nice touch,' Harry mused. He patted the bed enticingly. 'Join me?'

Ginny gazed at Harry for a moment, before shrugging off her dressing gown, letting it slither to the floor at her feet. 'You talked me into it.'

*****

A/N: I got the idea to have Harry tape James' mittens to his hands from the Friends episode when Phoebe got chicken pox, and Monica duct-taped oven mitts to her hands.

I'm really sorry it's taken so long to update this.

Thanks for reading. :)


	9. This Life

Ginny gazed at the calendar on her desk with an expression of extreme distaste. The annual Ministry ball was coming up in just under two months and she would have to try and gauge how big she would be by then. Ginny couldn't even begin to guess. When she'd carried James, by her eighth month she'd been so large, Harry could stand behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. Barely. His fingers were just able to lace over her protruding navel. With Albus, she'd been quite a bit smaller – to the point where she could still wear clothes she'd worn when she was six months gone with James on the day she delivered Albus at thirty-four weeks. She stuck her tongue out at the calendar and figured she'd have to take a stab at the size. As much as she disliked shopping at Madam Malkin's, at least dress robes could be charmed to expand as she did. Muggle clothing didn't quite work the same way. It didn't take to charms very well.

Whatever Ginny decided to wear, she'd have to go and do it soon. The last thing she wanted to do was shop for clothes while eight months' pregnant.

_Maybe after Hermione has her baby, we can go together. She'll need something to wear as well…_ Ginny mused, idly doodling on the square that marked the last Saturday in June. With a sigh, she glanced at her watch and started in surprise. She had to leave soon and go to Appleby for the game. She didn't enjoy the games as much as she had before. Ginny carefully weighed everything she said before she opened her mouth, lest she find it printed in the paper the next morning. And as much as she enjoyed discussing the finer points of the game with Roger, even that was something she no longer did with as much liveliness as before, if at all.

'Bloody hell, I'm going to be late,' Ginny muttered, rummaging through her desk for her credential tags. She snatched up her bag and headed for the lift, cursing under her breath. If she hurried, she might be able to make it for the pre-game warm ups. She waited impatiently at the Floo on the ground floor of the _Prophet_ offices, tapping her toes on the worn linoleum, waiting for the rather elderly wizards who covered the Wizangamot to shuffle through the line.

She scooped a handful of Floo powder from the large urn next to the hearth. 'Arrows Field!' she exclaimed, holding her bag firmly to her side. She'd been late once, when she had started working at the paper and her bag ended up in a pub in Aberdeen when she'd lost her grip on it. In moments, she staggered onto the hearth of the Floo that connected the _Prophet_ to Arrows Field, just under the press box. She waved her tags at the witch at the bottom of the stairs and began to climb the several flights to the box. Several shouts signaled the beginning of the warm ups, and Ginny huffed in irritation at herself for missing the beginning of it. She could always tell how a team was going to play by how their warm up went. If the Seeker seemed sluggish, or if the Chasers let the Quaffle slip through their fingers. If the Beaters' aim was slightly off. If the Keeper wasn't as sharp as she usually was…

Ginny hurried up the stairs to the press box and skidded to a stop just inside the entrance. She glanced nervously around the box, and found an empty chair on the other side of the box, heading toward it with an impersonal nod to Roger. Lora Capaletti, who followed British and Irish Quidditch for the Canadian wizarding newspaper, the ­_Spyglass_, waved at Ginny with an impish grin on her face. 'Find out what you're having yet?' she asked, as Ginny settled into the chair next to Lora.

'Next week,' Ginny said with a sigh.

Lora eyed Ginny calculatingly. 'What do you want?'

Ginny blew her hair from her eyes. 'I don't know.' She shifted a little, stretching as she did so. 'I wouldn't mind another boy. I grew up around nothing but boys. Some of my best friends are boys…' She trailed off wistfully. 'Sometimes, I think a girl would be nice, though. Just to balance it out a bit. To toilet train someone who's not going to dribble all over the floor…' She wrinkled her nose at Lora. 'Sorry. I'm sure you don't want to hear about how James doesn't always make it into the toilet when he wakes up in the middle of the night.'

Lora shuddered delicately. 'That's disgusting.'

Ginny laughed. 'That's not even the half of it,' she assured Lora.

Lora leaned a little closer. 'You missed it earlier,' she whispered. 'That Vane bitch came in a few minutes before you got here.' Lora giggled softly. 'Everyone went silent and stared at her until she left.'

Ginny's mouth dropped open. 'Seriously?'

'Seriously.' Lora gently nudged Ginny's shoulder. 'It's hard enough to be a girl in here, without the petty crap from people who don't work in here.' A line appeared between her eyebrows. 'How did my little sister put it…? Oh, right. We've got your back.'

Ginny felt the knot that had resided in the pit of her stomach slowly disappear and pulled her notebook out so she could start taking notes on the people flying by the press box. She hoped she and Harry were right and that it would, in fact, be forgotten. _Come to think of it, Aiden Lynch is due for a major cock-up with his latest eye-candy wife_, Ginny mused, chewing absently on the end of her quill.

The players descended to the field to take their place on each end of the field, Appleby on one side and Kenmare on the other. A hush rippled over the stadium and the announcer began to introduce the Kenmare team. As the players took a lap around the stadium, a roar rose from the crowd, and a familiar fluttering sensation surged through Ginny. The quill dropped from her fingers as her hand spread over her abdomen.

Ginny's attention turned inward for a moment, and her face brightened. _Hi there_, she thought. _You're going to be Mummy's Quidditch star, aren't you?_ With a brief caress of her fingertips over her stomach, Ginny's attention returned to the game.

*****

Ginny tiptoed into James' room, and ran her hand over his thick, dark hair. Her fingertips momentarily traced over the contours of his face, as she contemplated the features that had emerged from his baby-soft face. The shape of Harry's eyes and the sweep of his long lashes brushed over the cheekbones that held the promise of Harry's. Her mouth and her father's chin. The hand that lay curled on the pillow next to his face were the same long, slender hands that Ginny had seen in photographs of her uncles Fabian and Gideon. Harry's hair. She had seen a few photographs of Harry's mother, where her long hair had been swept up or back, revealing her ears. Ginny delicately traced the edge of James' ear. He had Lily's ears, set neatly against his head. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before she left and went across the corridor to Albus' room.

The dim light created flickering shadows on the walls from the still-bare limbs of the trees in the back garden. Even now, at just two months shy of his second birthday, Albus was the spitting image of his father. Not that they had any photographic evidence to back them up, but there were a few surviving photographs of Harry's father from his childhood. Everyone had always told Harry how much he resembled James, so every now and then, Ginny would hold one up to Albus and compare the two. She remembered the slightly pinched expression Harry had worn when he first took the train to school. She took comfort in the idea that it was one thing that Albus and Harry would not have in common.

Harry had picked up Teddy after school earlier that day, and while she knew Teddy wouldn't appreciate it, Ginny tiptoed into his room as well. Even in deep slumber, the tips of his hair were still bright turquoise. She often wondered if it changed according to what he dreamed. _Like that silly Muggle thing Harry got me as a joke one day… What was it? Ah, yes. Mood ring…_ Like Albus, he strongly resembled his father, but with traces of his mother about him. Her fingers brushed the heavy hair from his eyes. He was just as much her baby as the others. Watching him gave Ginny a clear picture of what Remus must have looked like when he was happy before Fenrir Greyback. Especially when he was awake and his grey eyes sparkled with laughter, without the spectre of sadness and pain that so often marred Remus', even in his all-too-infrequent moments of joy.

Ginny left Teddy's room and slipped down the corridor to her bedroom. Checking on her boys as soon as she got home from a game was a habit. She didn't sleep well if she omitted it from her routine. She missed being able to put them to bed, so her nighttime round was the next best thing for her.

She softly closed the door behind her and crossed to the small armchair, knowing a clean set of pajamas or a nightdress would be waiting for her, with a Warming charm. She gratefully stripped off her trousers and jumper and donned the waiting nightdress. It slid in warm folds over her head, the scent of the laundry soap slightly stronger for the warmth. Without bothering to turn on the bathroom light, Ginny hastily brushed her teeth and eased into the bed.

'Hey,' Harry whispered, as she pulled the quilt over her body, making her jump in alarm.

'I thought you were asleep!' Ginny hissed.

Harry shook his head. 'Not yet. Just came to bed.'

'You're up late,' Ginny observed.

Harry shrugged with one shoulder. 'Had to wait until the boys went to bed to finish grading the new trainees' exams.' Harry snorted in ironic laughter. 'If I had wanted to grade papers, I'd have taken the Defense job at school.' He rolled over to his side and laced his fingers through Ginny's. 'How was the game?'

'All right. Kenmare crushed Appleby after about half an hour of faffing about. They read their moves, then all but anticipated every bloody play Appleby had. It was tragic, but Appleby didn't have enough offense or defense to mix things up properly.' She yawned, and wriggled against Harry until her bottom fit snugly against his groin, pulling his hand around her stomach.

They lay quietly for several moments before Ginny said into the soft silence. 'He moved today.' She felt Harry's hand stretch over her swollen abdomen, and lightly circle over the silky cotton of her nightdress as she fell asleep.

*****

Harry glanced around the waiting area for what felt like the hundredth time and repressed a sigh. It wasn't like Ginny to be late for an appointment with the Healer. If anything, she was disgustingly punctual. His fingers tapped an impatient tattoo on the arm of the chair, and he glared at his watch, as if it would make Ginny magically appear in the entrance. 'Come on, Ginevra,' he muttered. 'A bet's a bet…'

Heaving an irritated sigh, he picked up one of the magazines that seemed to occupy every horizontal surface. He and Ron liked to pinch one when they were waiting for Hermione or Ginny, then compare which one was sappier or had the more unrealistic visualization of parenthood in their photographs. They then proceeded to doodle things like spit-up stains, toys on the floor, and all manner of general chaos, just to make things a little more realistic. This one was living up to Harry's rather jaded expectations. Two smiling blonde babies sat side-by-side in a pose he and Ginny could only make Albus and James do with liberal bribes of Chocolate Frogs. He chuckled and flipped the page over. The mother rocking her child with a beatific expression on her face nearly made him laugh out loud. Every hair was in place, her nightdress was neatly pressed and _clean_. That little detail alone made Harry snort in derision.

'I'm sorry!' Ginny's stricken voice gasped breathlessly in Harry's ear. 'I was just about to take the boys to Mum's and while I was putting Albie's shoes on, James climbed up to the counter and got into the honey and before I could stop him he had honey all over himself, the counter, Albus…' She thrust her hand through her hair, nearly pulling several strands out. 'So I had to take them back upstairs, clean them up, sit them both in the sitting room, while I cleaned the mess in the kitchen, _then_ took them over to Mum…' She grinned ruefully. 'Even with magic, it takes a while.'

'Yeah, I remember. Honey does _not_ come off anything easily, even with Scouring charms.' Harry remembered the one time Teddy had upended a pot of honey over the kitchen floor at his old flat.

'Took three just to get it out of James' hair…' Ginny sighed. 'So how late am I?' She tilted his wrist and looked at his watch. 'I'm not even late!' she exclaimed. 'And there you were huffing and squirming like I was half an hour late.'

'Normally, you're twenty minutes early, at least,' Harry pointed out.

'Well, I would have been if _your_ son hadn't decided to explore the contents of the honey bear,' she retorted. Ginny strode to the desk and told the welcome witch her name.

'Why is he always _my_ son if he's been bad?' Harry mused aloud.

Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'Because unlike some people I could name, I was a perfect angel as a child.'

Harry hauled himself to his feet and followed Ginny down the corridor to an examination room. 'I find that hard to believe,' he scoffed.

'It's true,' Ginny told him.

'Yeah, right.'

'If you could just wait out here while Mrs. Potter changes,' the welcome witch intoned.

'Why?' Harry asked. 'Because if it's to keep me from seeing her naked, that ship sailed a long time ago.' He grinned as the witch blinked at him in bemusement, then walked away.

Ginny pulled her shirt off and shook her head. 'Must you do that to all the newbies?'

'Yep.' Harry settled into the chair next to the exam table and began to fold Ginny's shirt. 'Toughens them up for later when they're faced by the barbarian horde that is the rest of the family. Especially for George or Bill. Those two can turn anyone into a pile of goo with their verbal sparring ability. I had to learn to how to do that to defend myself.'

'All in the name of self-preservation, eh?' Ginny tossed her trousers to Harry, who caught them deftly and folded them. She drew the pale-green gown over her head and sat on the edge of the table.

'Good afternoon, you two,' Shanti said in greeting. 'How are you feeling?'

'I'm a little tired,' Harry volunteered. 'But other than that, I'm all right.'

'I was talking to Ginny,' Shanti sighed.

'I'm fine,' Ginny said. 'Getting some heartburn occasionally if I eat too much.'

Shanti nodded as she strapped a monitor cuff to Ginny's wrist. 'Hmmm. Your blood pressure's a bit elevated, but not enough for me to worry about right now. If it gets any higher, you're going to have to take it easier,' she informed Ginny.

'Easier said than done,' muttered Ginny. 'Scrubbing honey off a wriggling four-year old doesn't make for an easy afternoon.'

'So, are you ready to find out what color to paint your nursery?'

'Absolutely!' Harry leaned forward, his face alight with curiosity.

Shanti's eyebrow rose. 'What's the bet?' she asked, familiar with the Weasley family habit of placing bets on births.

'The bet was whether or not I was pregnant. Harry won.' Ginny leaned back against the elevated end of the table, while Shanti draped a sheet over her body.

Unable to repress a snort of laughter, Shanti laid the tip of her wand against Ginny's abdomen. 'One hundred fifty-five beats per minute,' she said to the quill suspended over the clipboard. She slowly began to move the wand across Ginny's skin. 'Come on…' she said coaxingly. 'Sometimes, they won't cooperate,' she told Ginny, as the wand continued its path over and down. 'Don't be shy little one…' Suddenly the wand stopped and Shanti spun the clipboard around to face Harry and Ginny. 'There she is.' She pointed to a small face that was covered by tiny hands.

Harry tore his gaze from the image of the baby. 'Did you say she?' he stammered.

'I did.'

'Are you sure?' Ginny breathed, transfixed by the picture of her child.

'Fairly sure.' Shanti's fingertip drew a circle over the baby's lower half. 'Nothing there that screams out "boy".'

'Lily,' Ginny said softly.

Startled, Harry's wide eyes met Ginny's. 'You want to use Lily?' he asked hoarsely.

'Yeah, I do.' Her trembling fingertips reached out to the clipboard and traced the curve of the baby's head.

Harry pressed a kiss to Ginny's temple. 'Thank you.'

*****

Ron pulled his hand from Hermione's grasp. It felt like she'd broken every bloody bone in it. He replaced it with his other hand, and shook the abused one, to restore the circulation. He was sure something was going to happen. It had been too easy. The whole pregnancy had been far too easy. A little nausea in the beginning, but nothing debilitating. She'd felt fine the entire time. Even the labor was progressing smoothly, with no surprises. _This can't be right_, he thought.

Shanti's peered over Hermione's bent knee. 'Ready to have this baby?'

'God, yes,' Hermione groaned. 'I must have been insane to do this without painkillers.'

'You're doing fine,' Shanti assured her. 'All right… Push…'

'Is there a head this time?' Ron asked anxiously.

Shanti chuckled slightly. 'It appears to be.'

'Brilliant,' Hermione ground out through her teeth. 'Can I finish having the damn baby now?'

'Absolutely,' Shanti murmured. She frowned suddenly, and Ron felt his blood freeze. Shanti's hand shot out, palm up. It was covered in blood. Bright red blood. 'Sleeping Draught. Now!' she snapped. It made Ron blink. He'd never heard her speak that way. Not even when Rose presented in a breech position. 'Hermione, I need you to drink this,' she said, handing the vial to Ron.

'Why?' Ron looked down at Hermione, clutching the vial in his hand. Hermione was pale and her eyes wide and dark in her drawn face. She repeated her question, pushing Ron's hand away from her face. 'Why do I need to drink that?' she demanded.

'I need to get the baby out now. And I need you to take that draught.' Shanti caught Ron's eye and nodded. He gulped and held the vial to Hermione's lips.

'Come on, hen. Drink it…' Hermione's hand wrapped around Ron's wrist and she tilted the vial up, pouring the contents down her throat. She blinked sleepily a few times, then her hand fell away, as she went into deep slumber.

Shanti jabbed her wand at the bed, and the head slowly lowered until Hermione was flat on her back. 'Ron, I need you to leave.'

Ron stubbornly shook his head. 'No. I'm staying.'

'Ron, the baby doesn't have time for me to argue with you.' Shanti stood up and grasped Ron's sleeve with one of her bloody hands. 'Leave. Now.' She pulled him away from the bed and propelled him toward the door. 'I'm going to do everything I can, but I can't do it if you're in here.' She none-too-gently pushed him out of the magically opened door into the corridor.

Ron stood in the corridor, staring at the door of Hermione's room. He numbly turned and walked into the waiting area and dropped into the chair next to Harry. Most of the others were sleeping. Hermione had gone into labor at dinner time, and it was now past midnight. Harry's face brightened when he saw Ron. 'Is it over?' he whispered, so as not to awaken Ginny, James, or Albus.

Ron shook his head, staring unseeing at the intricate inlay of tile under his feet.

Harry breathed sharply at the sight of the bloody handprint that encircled Ron's bicep. 'What's going on?' he asked.

'I don't know.' Ron was visibly shaking with the effort to keep from screaming.

'Here, mate. Let me clean that for you…' Harry reached for his wand, only to have Ron jerk away from him.

'Leave it be!' Ron snarled softly.

'Okay… Fine…' Harry slid his wand back into the bag that held all the paraphernalia needed to keep two toddlers occupied for several hours. He could hear Ron's harsh breathing in the yawning silence that surrounded them. Ron folded his arms across his knees, and lowered his head to rest on them. Harry's hand rested between Ron's shoulder blades, and slowly circled, as if Ron was no older than James.

Time ticked over them and presently the door opened enough to allow Shanti to slip through. 'Ron?' she said softly, standing in front of them. Harry's eyes narrowed at the bloodstains on her customarily neat scrubs. Ron's lifted his face from his knees and quickly rubbed his unsoiled sleeve over his face, wiping the tearstains away. 'Come with me.'

Ron followed Shanti through the door. She stopped outside a room near Hermione's room. 'First of all, the baby's fine. You can go see him in a moment.'

'What about Hermione?' Ron didn't try to hide his obvious fear. 'Is she all right?'

Shanti's breath caught. 'I'm so sorry…'

*****

Ron rubbed his hands over his face. Shanti had told him the last time she'd been in to check on Hermione she ought to wake up soon. But that had been over two hours ago and Hermione showed no signs of waking. He sighed and leaned back, stretching his feet in front of him.

'Ron…?' Hermione's raspy voice made him bolt upright.

'Hi…' He brushed her hair from her eyes. 'How do you feel?'

'Awful,' she croaked. 'I hurt all over…'

'Want some water?'

Hermione's tongue inched across her dry lips. 'Yeah…'

Ron held a glass of water to her lips, rather like he'd done with the Sleeping Draught earlier. 'Yeah, you're going to be sore for a while,' he said, carefully helping Hermione take several sips of water. He set the glass on the table next to the bed.

Hermione tried to sit up, but the room began to spin. 'Oh dear…' She collapsed back against the pillows. 'Make the room stop spinning,' she ordered weakly.

'Just lie back and get some rest, hen. You lost a lot of blood last night.'

Even in her weakened state, Hermione didn't miss the tone of Ron's voice. 'What happened?'

Ron rubbed his face once more. 'From what I can gather, it was something called a uterine rupture. Shanti says it's really, really rare for someone to have one with they haven't had something called a Caesarian.' He paused. 'Do Muggles really slice you open and take the baby out?'

'They can,' Hermione allowed.

'Oh. Well. She says if you've had one of those you can have a uterine rupture. Or if you've had twins. But since you've had neither…' Ron shrugged. 'She said it's just one of those things.' He swallowed heavily. 'There's one more thing, Mione.' His throat closed around the words. 'We can't have any more children,' he said through a lump in his throat, tears burning his eyes.

Hermione's eyes closed briefly, then opened, bright with unshed tears. 'Hugo?'

Ron exhaled explosively. 'He's perfect. Ten fingers and toes. Weighs eight pounds, ten ounces. Eighteen inches long. Doesn't have much hair to speak of.'

'Red?'

Ron sniffed and nodded. 'Of course it is. He's a Weasley.' He leaned forward until his head rested next to Hermione's. 'He looks like you. Like those photos of you your mum showed me.'

'Can I see him?'

Ron took a long breath and stood up. 'Sure. I'll be right back.' He slipped out of the room, and went into the larger room down the corridor. He bent over the cot that held his son and scooped him up expertly. 'Want to go meet Mummy?' he crooned. He carried Hugo to Hermione's room, and laid the baby in the crook of Hermione's arm. 'Hen, this is Hugo Nathaniel Weasley.'

'Nathaniel?' Hermione gazed up at Ron. 'When did we decide on Nathaniel?'

'We didn't. It just came to me sometime between one and three this morning. I didn't think you'd mind.'

Hermione slowly shook her head. 'Not at all…' She ran a gentle fingertip down Hugo's nose. 'I think he's got your nose.' Her voice cracked, and unable to stop herself, tears ran unchecked down her face.

Ron walked around the bed, and carefully slid into it, nestling Hugo between them. One arm slid around Hermione's shoulders and the other rested on top of the one that cuddled Hugo. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. 'It's all right, hen.' His eyes drifted shut and the tears he'd been unable to shed earlier dripped off his face and into Hermione's hair.

* * *

A/N: I know... I don't make life easy for Ron and Hermione, do I?

So... I shall leave you with a batch or two of brownies and a big pot of hot chocolate.


	10. Many Hundred Miles

Hugo, as it turned out, didn't just resemble his mother. He also had his father's voracious appetite – a trait he shared with his older sister – and Ron's peculiar ability to sleep through everything. When both forces collided, Hugo could fall asleep midway through his meal, and no amount of gentle shaking, foot-tickling, back rubbing, or anything else meant to waken him would work. While the schedule seemed to work for Hugo, it played havoc on his mother. Hermione had learned to loosen her grip on exact routines, but Hugo's patterns didn't necessarily sit will with a nursing mother.

Hermione had expected to return home, Hugo in tow, a few days after his birth, like she had with Rose. She was wrong. She was ordered to stay in the hospital for a week, so she could recover.

The most time she'd ever spent in the hospital prior to this particular week, had been at the end of her fifth year. She hadn't quite understood why Harry hated the hospital wing so much. Until now.

'Do you always hold your patients hostage?' she huffed to Shanti two days after Hugo's birth.

'When they've lost as much blood as you have, then yes.' The Healer completed her examination. 'And when they've had the magical equivalent to a Caesarian and a hysterectomy, absolutely.' Shanti gave Hermione a hard look. 'You need to recuperate, and you need to be able to do it without trying to balance a toddler and a newborn.'

'How did you do that exactly?'

'Severing charm,' Shanti replied promptly.

'You can do that?' Hermione said in surprise.

'Yes. But it doesn't happen often. And it's not something routinely taught until about the fourth or fifth year of training. And only if one specializes in obstetrics and gynecology.' Shanti made a few notes on Hermione's chart. 'It's not as dangerous as it sounds, though. Just something like the last option in our bag of tricks.'

Hermione felt the blood rush through her ears. She reached blindly for the glass of water Ron had left for her earlier. Swallowing several gulps, she lowered the glass and gazed at Shanti. 'What would have happened if you hadn't done that?'

'You might have died. Hugo, too.'

Hermione's face grew pensive, as she turned that new bit of information over in her mind. The pattern of the blanket over her knees blurred, but she blinked rapidly. 'Thank you.'

Shanti hesitated for a moment, then settled on the edge of the bed in blatant disregard to Healer customs. She'd seen Hermione through far too much to pretend to maintain any sort of detachment, professional or otherwise. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

Shanti rubbed a fingertip over the knee of the trousers of her scrubs. 'I know having children meant a great deal to you, and I was wondering…' She looked at Hermione. 'Does it bother you?'

Hermione shook her head. It was something Ron had asked her yesterday. 'No.' At Shanti's skeptical expression, she continued. 'No, really. I had thought maybe one more after Hugo, but there was a point when we didn't think we'd ever have Rose, much less Hugo. So, no. I'm more grateful than you can ever know that I have them.' She pushed her hair away from her face. 'It's just now it's not even an option…' Hermione rubbed her nose and smiled weakly. 'At least your trainees were able to learn something.'

Shanti shook her head. 'Ron said you'd say something like that.'

*****

Ron gazed down at Rose, standing on a footstool in the bathroom. He didn't know how Hermione managed to deal with Rose's hair every day. And yet, every day, Rose wore a neat halo of curls. Somehow, he just managed to make her look like he hadn't so much as waved a comb in her direction in days. 'Mummy will just have to get over it,' he muttered. 'At least you're dressed in something that sort of matches.' _Stripes do go with flowers… don't they?_ He supposed he could blame Rose for her rather outlandish outfit, comprising of a green and blue striped shirt and a pale yellow pinafore spangled with bright pink flowers. He had laid out two shirts and two pinafores, just like Hermione had instructed. Rose, however, was the one who had picked the combination. 'Ready to go see Mummy?' he asked.

'Uh-huh.' Rose nodded vigorously, making her bright curls dance around her face. She hopped off the stool and ran into the sitting room, where her bag sat next to the door. It was stuffed with books, an ordinary Muggle notebook, full of blank paper, and several much-abused crayons.

Ron followed her, running his hand through his own hair, trying to put it into some sort of order. He took Rose to the hospital to see Hermione for a few hours in the mornings. Rose woke up at six every morning, no matter how late they put her to bed, and could get rather tetchy in the afternoons and needed a nice long kip. Ron knew she hadn't inherited that particular trait from anyone in his family. Most of them were night owls. Except for Molly and Percy, and neither of them was cross after lunch. He thought maybe she got it from Jane. Hermione's mother could get somewhat grumpy in the middle of the afternoon, but Ron had always attributed that to the fact that most of Jane's patients were school-age children and had appointments after they got out of school for the day. But the first time Rose threw a temper tantrum worthy of a Weasley when she couldn't find her green crayon between lunch and her nap one day, Ron had begun to rethink his perceptions about his mother-in-law.

He stopped to pick up a bag filled with food, unwilling to subject Hermione to the slop St. Mungo's called food. They had tried it before, when Hermione was carrying Rose and somehow, they had managed to cock up toast. It amazed Ron that a hospital couldn't manage to make more appealing meals. Then again, he reasoned, it must be part of a master plan to get everyone out of the hospital sooner, rather than later. 'Ready, Rosie?' Ron held out a hand to his daughter.

'Goin' on the Tube?' she asked brightly. Rose loved traveling on the Underground. If Arthur came to keep an eye on her for a few hours, they rode the train together in companionable excitement. At least it had given Arthur a crash course in traveling the Muggle way. And it went without saying that he loved every minute of it.

'Yep.' Ron refrained from heaving a sigh as they went slowly down the stairs. Rose was in something of an independent phase, and refused to let anyone carry her down the stairs, insisting she could do it.

'Gonna see Yugo?' she asked, her tiny brows knit in a frown of concentration as she took the steps, one at a time to the ground floor.

'Probably.'

'Oookay.'

Ron smothered a smile and opened the door. 'Give me your hand, Rose-bud,' he said, holding out his own hand. Rose reached up and wrapped her fingers around his index finger. He led her down the street to the station, half listening to her bright chatter as they rode to the station at Holborn. When they came to the window that contained the mannequin wearing the same awful green pinafore it had before. Ron shifted the bag containing Hermione's breakfast and lunch into his other hand, and swung Rose into his arms. 'Hermione Granger-Weasley, please,' he said softly, under the guise of leaning close to the glass. The mannequin beckoned, and Ron stepped through the glass.

Ron briskly walked down the corridor, keeping a firm grip on Rose, who was squirming in his arms, impatient to get down and walk on her own. 'Want down,' she whined.

'In a minute,' Ron sighed. Evidently, that was not the answer Rose wanted to hear, because she began to wriggle incessantly, until Ron was obliged to set her on the floor or drop the bag with Hermione's meals. 'You have to hold my hand, Rosie,' he called after the girl, who raced down the corridor, making a beeline for Hermione's room.

'Hi, Mummy,' Rose said as she ran into Hermione's room.

'Good morning, Rosie.' Hermione smiled at her daughter. 'Who picked out your clothes?'

'Me!'

'That explains it, then.' She looked up as Ron walked into the room. 'I thought you were laying out clothes for her?'

Ron set the bag on the table next to the bed. 'I was,' he said in exasperation. 'I gave her two choices, just like you said. That,' he said, pointing to Rose, 'is what she picked out. I put out two shirts and two pinafores.'

'Did you match the shirt to the pinafore or do it separately?'

'Didn't know I was supposed to do that…' Ron mumbled. 'I told you I'd be rubbish without you.' He opened the bag and pulled out a Muggle plastic container of food. 'Here…'

Hermione pried the lid off, and began to eat the mixture of sliced strawberries and blueberries in the small bowl. 'You're not rubbish at it.' She handed Rose a strawberry. 'At least she's wearing clothing.'

'That's supposed to make me feel better?'

'Remember when Katie had Sophie?'

'Yeah. So?' Ron folded his arms over his chest.

'I thought George was going to have a nervous breakdown trying to handle Fred and Jacob on his own for a few days. They were lucky to leave the house in something other than their pajamas.' Hermione chewed a blueberry thoughtfully. 'Actually, I think they ended up staying in the same set of pajamas for two straight days…'

Ron snorted and conjured a tray, and began to arrange the rest of Hermione's breakfast on it. 'Yes, but there are two of them. George was outnumbered.' He set the tray over Hermione's lap.

'Does she go to bed on time?'

'Yes.'

'Eat what you tell her to?'

Ron shrugged. 'Mostly. I had to hide the Every-Flavor Beans.'

'Then I wouldn't worry about whether or not her clothes match. I doubt she knows or cares.' Hermione buttered the toast and spread it with marmalade. 'She loves you. That's what counts.'

Ron's ears turned pink. 'I'm going to get Hugo,' he muttered, before turning out of the room, and went down the corridor. He poked his head into a room. A grandmotherly-looking witch was moving between a few cots that lined the walls.

'Good morning, Mr. Weasley,' she said softly, smiling genially. 'You're here for Hugo?'

'Yeah.' Ron slipped into the room and walked to the cot where Hugo lay. 'How's he doing?'

'Just lovely,' the witch beamed. 'I wish all the babies in here were this good.'

Ron bent to pick up the baby. His fingertip traced down Hugo's nose. It _did_ resemble his. 'He's really all right?' he asked uncertainly. 'There's nothing wrong with him from the other night?'

The witch peeked at Hugo's sleeping face. 'None so far. He's doing very well,' she assured Ron.

Ron carried Hugo into Hermione's room. Hugo's bottom pushed against Ron's hand few times and a rumbling sound came from him. 'Oh, that's just brilliant,' Ron informed his son. 'Learn to belch like that, and we'll have you recorded and playing every time someone opens the door at the shop.' Hugo's face turned red and it scrunched in his sleep. 'Oh, don't do that…' Ron begged.

'Don't do what?' Hermione looked at Ron bemusedly.

'I'll flip you for the nappy change,' Ron said enticingly.

'I wan' help!' Rose slid off the foot of Hermione's bed.

'All right.' Ron pointed to a cupboard. 'Bring me a clean nappy from there.' Rose tugged open the door and grabbed a nappy, knocking over the rest of the stack, and carried it back to Ron, who had laid Hugo on the spot on the bed Rose had vacated. 'Thanks, Rose-bud.'

'You're going to need another one,' Hermione remarked, taking a sip of tea.

'Right.' Ron pulled his wand from his pocket and flicked it at the cupboard, making another nappy float across the room toward him. 'Hey, Rosie? See that bottle?'

'Uh-huh.'

'Could you bring it over?'

''kay…' Rose reached into the cupboard and clutched the bottle of talcum powder with both hands, walking back to Ron.

'One more thing, Rosie,' Ron told her. 'See that facecloth next to the nappies?' At Rose's vigorous nod. 'Can you bring that to me, too?'

'You know, this would be faster if you just collected all that yourself,' Hermione said dryly.

'True, but when do you think she's ever going to want to help like this again?' Ron replied. He deftly unwrapped Hugo from the blanket, making a face at the mess that had leaked from the nappy and currently dribbled down Hugo's chubby leg. 'Oh, that's disgusting…'

'Ewwwww!' Rose's small face scrunched in obvious distaste and she scurried to the head of the bed.

Hermione craned her head a little. 'That's normal,' she pointed out.

'Well, yes, for the poo, but it's everywhere,' Ron said in slight desperation, as he began to gingerly dab at the mess that coated Hugo. He spared a glance for Hermione. 'How are you feeling?'

'Better. Don't hurt quite so much, but Shanti's making me take Blood-Replenishing potions three times a day.'

'What about the other thing?' Ron continued, as he kept his eyes glued to his hands, swiftly tugging the soiled nappy from under Hugo. 'Now that you've had time to think about it…'

'I still stand by what I said yesterday, Ron,' Hermione said. 'It's fine.' She toyed with the edge of the blanket. 'Well, not fine, really, but it's not the end of the world.'

Ron sprinkled talcum powder on Hugo's bottom, and wrapped the clean nappy around him, pinning it clumsily with one hand. 'Here,' he said, scooping the baby into his hands, and depositing him in Hermione's arms. 'I'll go fetch a clean blanket and another one of those bodysuits,' he murmured, and started for the door.

'Ron?' Hermione's voice stopped him as his hand landed on the doorknob.

'Yeah?'

'I love you.'

The corner of Ron's mouth tipped up. 'I love you, too.'

*****

Ron lifted Rose from the bathtub and set her on the rug, wrapping a towel around her. He briskly dried her, then sent her to her room with a light swat. By the time he had dried the splashes of water from the floor and followed Rose down the corridor, she had pulled open a bureau drawer and was industriously digging through it. She emerged clutching her Cannons robes. 'Want to s'eep in deese!' she exclaimed, waving the robes over her head.

'You can't, Rosie. You need to sleep in this.' Ron held out Rose's small nightdress.

'Want to s'eep in Cahnons!'

'You'll get too hot,' Ron cajoled.

Rose stamped her feet, her face screwed up with all the fury she could manage. Which, considering who her father and paternal grandmother were, was a considerable amount. 'Want to s'eep in Cahnons!' she repeated.

'All right?' Harry peered around the door.

'She's supposed to sleep in the nightdress. Hermione said she needs to sleep in the nightdress,' Ron said doggedly.

Harry glanced down at Rose, who had managed to get the robes partially over her head. He squatted next to her and helpfully pulled them over her head. 'There you are, Rosie.'

She beamed at him. 'T'ank you, Un'le Harry.'

'You're welcome.' Harry ruffled the bright red curls.

'You're not helping,' Ron told Harry in a low voice, picking up Rose and setting her into the cot.

'And you need to pick your battles,' Harry retorted.

Ron handed Rose a book. 'Good night, Rose-bud.' He kissed her cheek.

'G'nigh, Daddy.' She began to leaf interestedly through the book.

Ron left the room, and closed the door, leaving it halfway open. He sighed and let his shoulders slump. 'I don't think I could do this alone.'

'You're doing fine,' Harry assured him.

'Yeah. I'm doing so brilliantly, people on the train kept giving me looks when they saw Rosie's dress today and I can't even convince her to wear her bloody nightdress,' Ron growled. He stalked into the kitchen, where the shirt he'd worn the night Hugo was born sat soaking in the sink.

Ron pulled the dripping shirt from the water, and started to scrub at the pale blue cloth. The handprint was still a ghostly outline on the right sleeve. 'Why won't it come out?' he asked. 'I've tried everything. Magic, Muggle methods in some book I found. And it still won't come out!' he said desperately. 'It's my fault,' he mumbled. 'It's all my fault.'

Perplexed, Harry pulled the soaking wet shirt from Ron's unresisting fingers. 'What's your fault?'

Ron stumbled to a chair and fell into it. 'Hermione. It was my fault.' He rubbed his wet hands over his jeans.

Harry slowly sat in the chair next to Ron's. 'I don't understand. It was just a difficult birth, right?' Ron hadn't told them anything at the hospital other than that it had been a difficult birth and they should go home. Harry hadn't been so sure about that. He had seen the fine tremors that ran through Ron, shivering as if he were cold.

Ron ran his hands through his hair. 'I should have kept my hands off her… I shouldn't have…' He gulped audibly. 'Shagged her so close to her due date,' he murmured, his ears going bright red. He raised his eyes to Harry's. 'It had to have been me. She was so careful.'

'Ron, it's not like you bound her up and forced her. She was a willing participant.' Harry paused for a moment. 'At least I hope she was…'

Ron gave Harry a look. 'Of course she was,' he snapped. He propped his elbows on the table and slid forward until his head rested on the top of the table. 'It's the only thing I can think of.'

'Why does it have to be something you did?' Harry asked. He and Ginny had done this after Albus was born – spending hours trying to figure out what they had done that would send Ginny into preterm labor.

Ron shrugged listlessly. 'Because if I can say my wife nearly died because of me, it would make some sort of sense.'

Harry inhaled sharply. 'She almost died…?'

Ron nodded miserably. 'Yeah. Shanti said she nearly bled out – is that the right phrase? – before she could sort everything out.' He cleared his throat.

Harry sat quietly, digesting this bit of information. 'What happened?' he asked.

'She… she… Well…' Ron shifted uncomfortably. 'She had this…' He gulped again. 'Everything was going so well, then she started bleeding, and I had to leave…' Ron took in a deep breath. 'Her uterus ruptured,' he admitted. 'Shanti did everything she could but there was too much damage.' Ron's breath hitched, but he continued. 'We can't… Even if we wanted to… Hugo…' Ron's throat closed around the words and he lifted his face from the table, swiping his sleeve angrily across his face.

'Does anybody else know this?' Harry asked, Summoning a tea towel.

Ron shook his head. 'Besides Hermione and me? No.' He took the tea towel Harry offered and scrubbed it over his face, and blew his nose. 'Please don't say anything,' he pleaded.

'Not even to Ginny?' Harry asked uneasily.

Ron sighed and carefully folded the towel. 'All right. You can tell Gin, but that's it.'

Harry's eyes closed. 'I'm so sorry,' he said softly, remembering all the ups and downs Ron and Hermione had gone through in order to have Rose.

Ron stood up and tossed the towel into a basket. 'It's okay.' He started toward the door. 'I wish people would stop saying that,' he grumbled. 'Like a little "I'm sorry" is going to make up for it.' He stopped and turned around, his hands clenched into fists. 'Don't get me wrong,' he began hoarsely. 'I'm thrilled that I have two healthy children, when I thought at one point I'd never even have one, but…'

Harry reached out to Ron and grabbed his arm. He didn't say anything, but pulled Ron into a tight hug. Ron's hands started to pull Harry's arms away, but they closed painfully around Harry's wrists and he began to cry. Harry said nothing, but silently stood with his arms wound around his best friend, rocking him gently. Ron's hands fell away from Harry's wrists and his arms wrapped around his shoulders. After a few more minutes, Ron pulled away. 'Thanks,' he murmured.

Harry's hand squeezed Ron's shoulder. 'Anytime, mate.' He maneuvered Ron to a chair and made him sit down. 'Did you want more…?' he asked uncertainly, knowing how much the idea of a large family had terrified Ginny.

Ron snorted in ironic laughter. 'I don't know. To be honest, I thought after Rose was born she would be our only child. Then when she got pregnant again, we were both so surprised by it that the only thing we discussed about it was whether or not we had wanted more children after Rosie.' He rubbed his face a little. 'We've never really talked about what we wanted to do after Hugo.' He shrugged morosely. 'I guess that decision's been made for us, hasn't it?'

'Don't you think you ought to talk about this with Hermione?' Harry asked.

Ron sighed. 'I did. The day after Hugo was born. She _says_ she's all right with it, but I think she's always harbored a secret desire to have more than two children.'

'What about you?' Harry persisted.

Ron shook his head. 'No. I _know_ what it's like to have a lot of brothers and sisters…' He glanced at Harry. 'I know you and Hermione have this romantic idea of what it's like to be in a large family, but you have no idea. No offense,' he added.

'No.'

'I never thought I'd say this, but Percy was right about what it feels like. I do not want to put any child through what we had to go through. You two have really only seen the good that can come from having such a large family.'

'That's what Ginny said, before Albus was born,' Harry murmured absently.

'And she was right,' Ron mumbled. 'I thought you were nutters for having a third.'

Harry smothered a chuckle. 'Believe me, after dealing with James and Albus all day, I think we are, too.'

*****

Harry crept into the house, hoping he didn't wake anyone. He'd left Ron and Hermione's flat and spent a few hours wandering around London. He couldn't picture Ron without Hermione. He tried, but the two of them were inextricably bound to one another. Somehow, he thought if one were to die, the other would follow. Not that Ron would have committed suicide over Hermione's death. Sure, he'd live for his daughter, and his son. But he wouldn't be the same. Harry reckoned Ron would slowly fade away, a little bit at a time, until he just disappeared.

He ascended the stairs and turned automatically into James' room. He pulled the light quilt over James and spent a few minutes watching his eldest son sleep. James slept with an abandon Harry envied. After running his hand over James' head, Harry went to check on Albus, who was sleeping with his thumb firmly embedded in his mouth. _Something must have happened earlier. He doesn't suck his thumb unless James teases him._ Harry reached into the cot, and gently pulled Albus' thumb out of his mouth and used the edge of the blanket to wipe the saliva off it. Albus' lips smacked sleepily a few times, then he settled back into slumber. Smiling a little, Harry slipped into Teddy's room. _Lily's room, soon._ He started guiltily as he realized he hadn't started converting the attic into a room for Teddy. _Maybe I can ring up Dean, Seamus, and Neville, and with Ron and me, we can get it out of the way in an afternoon._ Teddy's sandy hair flopped over the pillow, the tips a shimmering shade of purple. Harry felt the old impotent rage gurgle in his stomach. He hadn't felt it in years. Not since Teddy was Albus' age. Slowly, Harry inhaled, and blew out the breath as he pulled out the chair at the small desk, and sat on it. He understood why Tonks followed Remus into the battle. If he'd been in her shoes, he probably would have done the same thing. Regardless, it didn't make him any less angry that his beloved godson had to grow up without at least one parent.

The feel of a hand on the back of his neck made Harry sit up suddenly. Ginny stood next to the chair, one hand rubbing absently at the side of her swollen abdomen. 'It's late,' she whispered.

Harry nodded and rose from the chair, shoving it back under the desk, with a discordant scraping sound, as the wooden legs dragged over the hardwood floor. Harry glanced back at Teddy, but he merely twitched a little and snorted, shifting his position, then relaxed. He followed Ginny out of Teddy's room and padded down the corridor to their bedroom, closing the door behind them. 'Feel all right?' he asked.

'Yeah.' Ginny rubbed her knuckles over her breastbone. 'Just heartburn.'

Harry's eyes narrowed. 'What did you eat?'

'Uhhh…' Ginny's eyes unfocused as she tried to remember. 'Leftover samosas from lunch yesterday, half of that insanely large bar of Honeydukes' chocolate you've got stashed in a drawer in the kitchen, popcorn with salt and butter, an apple, and two oranges.'

'All at once?' Harry gagged.

Ginny sighed crossly. 'No. I've been nibbling all night.'

'Feeling peckish, were you?' Harry reached over to the small bookcase and snagged the dog-eared copy of their pregnancy. He flipped through the pages until he came to the section on heartburn. 'Did you eat every forbidden food on the list on purpose?' he asked dryly.

'Not particularly,' Ginny retorted. She rubbed her breastbone once again. 'Isn't there any bicarb in the kitchen?' she asked fretfully.

Harry set the book down. 'I think so.'

'Could you get me some?' Ginny asked irritably.

'Oh, right…' Harry hurried down the stairs and returned, carrying a bright yellow box. Ginny took it from him and trudged into the bathroom. 'So, I saw Ron earlier.'

'How's he doing?' Ginny measured a couple of tablespoons of the bicarbonate of soda into a glass and added water to it. 'He hasn't been very talkative the past few days.' She upended the glass and began to gulp the mixture down.

Harry squirted a blob of toothpaste to his toothbrush. 'Not so good,' he said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. 'Hermione almost died,' he told Ginny, his eyes fixed on the toothpaste. 'And he thinks it was his fault.'

'How would it be his fault?' Ginny leaned against the counter, stifling the belch that rose to the surface.

Harry began to brush his teeth. He spit the mouthful of foam into the sink and shrugged. 'In the face of the inexplicable, Gin, you latch onto the most logical explanation. And when you can't find a logical explanation, you choose the easiest.' Before he poked the toothbrush back into his mouth, Harry's eyebrow rose. 'I should know…' He meditatively brushed his teeth for a few minutes before rinsing his mouth out. He got to his feet and tossed his toothbrush on the counter. Turning to Ginny, his hand spread over her stomach. 'He said that she can't…' He shook his head, while his hand circled over Ginny.

Ginny looked down in confusion, until Harry's forehead rested against her middle. 'Oh…' she breathed, comprehension dawning.

'It's not fair,' he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of Ginny's nightdress. 'Magic can re-grow bones, heal wounds, and bring someone back from the brink of death, but when it comes to something like that it's useless.'

Ginny's hand stroked Harry's hair back from his face. 'Is Hermione going to be all right?'

'Physically? Ron says she'll recover.'

'That's not what I meant,' Ginny pointed out.

'I know.' Harry rubbed his face over Ginny's stomach. 'I don't know. But it rather depends on them, doesn't it? If they're okay with it.'

Ginny sighed and let her hands rest on Harry's shoulders. 'Don't dwell on it,' she advised.

'I'm trying not to,' he said.

'Come on, Harry.' Ginny urged him to his feet. 'Let's go to bed.'

*****

A/N: Steph will hunt me down if I don't leave out a large stash of chocolate worthy of Remus Lupin...

The title comes from the song 'Train Song' by Vashti Bunyan. If you live in the United States, there was a commercial for Reebok using NFL players going to their stadiums in a V-formation (like geese!) with this song in the background. Who cared what Reebok was trying to sell, it was the song that intrigued me...


	11. Memorials

Hermione gingerly slid out of bed and padded down the corridor to Hugo's nursery. The small lamp in the corner threw long shadows across the room and over the rocking chair. She leaned over the cot. Hugo was awake, gnawing gummily on one fist, drool coating his chin. 'You're making a terrible mess,' Hermione cooed, using the edge of the blanket to wipe Hugo's chin. She glanced over her shoulder and reached into the cot, lifting Hugo with a slight grimace of pain. 'Are you hungry, baby boy?' She slowly eased into the rocker, biting her lip. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been two weeks ago after Hugo's birth, but it was still present, lingering as a constant reminder.

'What do you think you're doing?' Ron mumbled from the door, rubbing his hands over his face.

'Feeding Hugo. What does it look like?' Hermione loosened her dressing gown and began to unbutton the top of her pajamas.

'You're not supposed to pick him up!'

'Can we not have this discussion now?' Hermione asked softly, not wanting to disturb Hugo. 'Not today.'

'Fine.' Ron turned to leave. 'Dad's coming over later to help us get Rosie and Hugo to the school.'

Hermione nodded, a muscle in her jaw twitching. She could hear Ron in the next room, swinging Rose from her cot, holding her aloft over his head, making her giggle in the quiet morning. She settled back against the rocking chair, wondering what had made them accept Shacklebolt's invitation to attend the memorial service this year. The normally didn't attend, preferring to gather as a family, closing ranks around George and Harry, to mourn and reminisce in private.

Her eyes drifted shut in an attempt to block the faces and memories that she knew would surge to the surface later.

*****

Harry knelt in the bathroom, wielding a wet facecloth in one hand, while his other clamped around the back of James' head. 'I don't know why I told Kingsley we'd come today,' he told the boy. He swiped the rapidly cooling cloth over James' face, wiping a dried smudge of egg yolk from the corner of his mouth. 'At least I won't have to speak.'

'We can send an owl to Kinglsey,' Ginny said from the door. 'Say you're not well, or the boys aren't.'

Harry shook his head. 'No. We need to be there. If Andromeda or George can go, so can I.' He scrubbed at something caked in James' hair. 'How did you get jam in your hair?' he breathed in exasperation.

James shrugged exaggeratedly. 'I donno.'

Harry's hand dropped from James' head. 'You could slow down at meals, you know,' he told James, irritation clearly written in his voice and on his face. He glanced back at Ginny. 'I'm fine here.'

Ginny reached over his shoulder and tugged the facecloth from his lax fingers. 'Go get dressed. I'll take care of the boys.'

Harry shook his head. 'It's fine, Gin.' He took the facecloth back from Ginny, and turned on the tap, rinsing it out. 'I'll clean up Albus if you dress James.'

She nodded and beckoned to James. 'Come on, Jemmy.'

Harry bent and picked up Albus, lifting him up to the counter. 'It's just the day, Gin,' he said softly.

'I know.'

She disappeared down the corridor with James, and Harry looked down at Albus' small, somber face. 'I owe it to your Uncle Fred to be there,' he admitted to his son. 'And to Remus and Dora.' He wiped a dab of marmalade from the end of Albus' nose. 'And to your namesake. Both of them.' He wiped Albus' sticky hands clean. 'I'll be better tomorrow,' he promised.

*****

Katie sat Fred and Jacob on the sofa. 'If either of you move from the sofa, neither of you will get pudding after dinner tonight,' she threatened. 'Do you understand?'

Fred shook his head solemnly. 'No puddin' for Jacob an' Fred,' he intoned.

'Or Sophie,' Jacob added pointing accusingly to his baby sister, sitting on the other end of the sofa.

'Fine.' Katie rolled her eyes. 'Or Sophie.' She sighed and began to walk toward the bedroom door. She stopped at the sound of a knock on the front door. 'Oh buggering hell,' she muttered. 'What now?' She strode to the front door, and yanked it open. 'Molly…'

Molly smiled tremulously. 'I thought you could use some help getting the children up to…' She cleared her throat. 'To the service.'

Katie massaged her temples for a moment. 'That would be great,' she said. 'I just have to check on George…' Katie turned toward the bedroom door once more. 'I don't know why he insisted on going today. We could have gone any other day, but for some reason, he wanted to go.' She took a deep breath. 'It's almost like he forgot what he's like this time of year…' A knock interrupted her. 'Oh, for God's sake... What is this? King's Cross?' She pulled the door open to discover Percy on the steps.

'I thought… George…' he motioned with a vague gesture into the sitting room.

Katie's eyes closed and she took a long breath through her nose. George had been adamant about going to the memorial this year. But last night, he had gone to bed early, and refused to speak to Katie at all. And so far this morning, nothing she could say or do would convince George to get up.

'Katie…?' Percy sounded uncertain.

'Yeah… Go on…'

Percy knocked softly on the bedroom door. 'George?' He pushed the door open, and walked into the darkened bedroom, closing the door behind him. He blinked a few times, and the indistinct shapes sharpened into George huddled under the quilt on the bed. Percy sank to the edge of the bed. 'I know it's hard for you today, and I'm not going to try and convince you to do something you don't want to do.'

George didn't reply, merely turning his head on the pillow, transferring his unblinking gaze to the wall, looking away from Percy.

'I wish,' Percy began with difficulty. 'I wish I had had more time,' he mused softly. 'I did and said so many things I regret, that I can't even begin to list them all.'

'Why are you telling me this?' George asked, his voice rusty and dull.

'No reason. I just don't want you to wake up one day and realize you should have gone.' Percy's hand landed on George's shoulder and squeezed it gently. 'You're not alone today, George. Regardless of what you decide to do, I'll be here.'

George's eyes squeezed shut and he slowly rolled over, placing his feet on the floor, as if it cost him every last bit of strength he had.

*****

'Do we have to go?' Teddy asked mulishly, as Andromeda sat on the edge of her bed, straightening Teddy's dark tie.

'Do we have to?' Andromeda repeated. 'No, dear, we don't _have_ to.'

'Then why are we going?' he asked petulantly. 'I don't even remember them.'

Andromeda rubbed her finger under her nose. 'That's why we're going,' she said softly. 'So you can remember them.'

Teddy pulled away from his grandmother. 'It's not fair!' he shouted. His face twisted in anger as he yanked the tie loose and threw it on the floor. 'I _hate_ them for dying!'

'Teddy… You don't mean that…' Andromeda said.

'Yes, I do!' He darted from the room and ran into his bedroom, the door slamming behind him. A muffled crash soon followed.

Andromeda swore under her breath, and picked up the tie. She padded down the corridor to Teddy's room tried to open it. 'Teddy, open the door, please.' She waited a few moments, then pulled her wand from her skirt pocket and tapped the door knob. Teddy was lying on his bed, face buried in the pillow. The framed photograph of Remus and Tonks that usually sat on the windowsill next to his bed lay on the floor, its glass smashed into pieces. Andromeda flicked her wand at it, and the glass silently repaired itself, as the fame floated up to the windowsill. 'Teddy, darling…' The words died in her throat. There wasn't anything she could say to Teddy about Remus or Tonks that would make him feel better. She sat on the bed next to him, stroking his heavy, sandy hair.

'I want my mum,' he sniffled into the pillow. He sat up and spun around, throwing himself into his grandmother's arms. 'I want my mum…'

*****

Bronwyn slid her feet into the heeled shoes she rarely wore, and clattered down the stairs to find Charlie with his head in the fire. He pulled his head from the flames and looked up at her. 'Can you manage Izzy by yourself?' he asked abruptly.

'Is something wrong?'

Charlie shook his head. 'Bill needs some help with the twins.'

'How did they get overlooked?' Bronwyn asked in minor confusion. The Weasleys were legendary for their ability to organize the family and an oversight such as this was rare.

'They weren't.' Charlie picked up his shoes and shoved his feet into them, and tied the laces quickly. 'Dad was supposed to go over and help them get the boys to the school, then the whole thing with Hermione happened…' He shrugged. 'Plans changed, and Bill thought he and Fleur could get Vic, Maddie, Nicky, and Alex up by themselves, but the boys aren't being cooperative.' He glanced at Bronwyn, sitting huddled next to him. Charlie's large, blunt hand rested on her forehead. 'Do you feel all right?' he asked worriedly. 'You don't feel warm,' he commented. 'You look awful, though.'

Bronwyn moved Charlie's hand. 'That's now how you take a temperature.'

'You don't have to go if you don't feel up for it,' Charlie murmured.

'I'm fine,' she insisted. 'Just been a long week in the infirmary.'

Charlie picked up the jacket of the suit he hardly wore. 'You know the last time I wore this was when Hermione's father died…'

'We'll have to find a happier occasion for you to wear it, then.'

Charlie snorted. 'I'll believe it when I see it.' He turned to Bronwyn and gently kissed her. 'I'll see you at the school in half an hour?'

'Yes. We'll save you a seat if we get there before you.'

'Thanks,' Charlie muttered, stuffing a small sketchbook and a few pencils into the pocket of his jacket. Bronwyn bit her lip. Charlie normally sketched in his free time, and didn't do it much around the family any more, but it was a sign of his emotional distress that he took the sketchbook with him.

*****

Bill sat on Victoire's bed with Madeline between his knees, her back to him. His fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons that rose from the small of his daughter's back to the base of her neck. He twirled her around so she faced him, pulling her closer so he could look over her shoulder. 'Why does girls' clothing have to have all these damn buttons?' he muttered.

Victoire looked up from the floor, where she was in the process of buckling her shoes. 'You could use magic,' she pointed out.

'I'm not using magic to button your sister's dress.'

Victoire shrugged and slid the strap of her other shoe through the buckle. 'Mum does.'

'That's because your mum can do it without getting the buttons in the wrong buttonholes,' Bill retorted. He pushed the last button through its buttonhole, and picked up the hairbrush on the bed next to him. 'Don't say it,' he warned. 'I know your mum can do all sorts of fancy things with your hair, but you'll just have to deal with me today.' Victoire's eyebrows rose and she fiddled with the strap of her shoe. Bill grimaced, feeling the scars on his face twist as he did so. He began to draw the brush through Madeline's straight hair, teasing out the tangles. Bill gathered her hair into one hand and wound an elastic around it, feeling a faint sense of accomplishment as he adjusted the ponytail.

Fleur walked into the room, adjusting the dark robes she chose to wear that day. 'You do not have to snap at ze girls,' she said in a low voice. She knelt on the floor and helped Madeline fasten the buckles to her shoes. 'Ze girls and I will go now. Charlie is on his way?' Bill nodded. 'Ze boys are in zeir cots. Try not to let zem get dirty.' She ushered the girls downstairs, leaving Bill sitting on the bed, staring at the hairbrush cradled in his hands.

*****

Harry stood in front of the memorial in one of the front corridors off the Great Hall. Portraits of the people who had died in the battle lined the wall, but unlike the other paintings in Hogwarts, they didn't move, nor did they talk or interact with the people that walked slowly by. Underneath each portrait was the person's name, with the dates of their birth, followed by either May first or second. There was something almost ethereal in the paintings, in how the artist had managed to capture how each person looked while they were alive, as if they were in motion.

Harry shifted his grip on Albus, hefting the sleeping boy into a more comfortable position. 'You did a great job, Dean,' he said softly.

'Thanks. I did them all by hand, no magic, no enchantments…' Dean replied, his fingers grazing over the top of a small bronze plaque set into the wall. _In memoriam – Anthony Quinn_

Harry saw the motion and gestured toward the plaque with his chin. 'Who's Anthony Quinn?'

Dean hesitated, but replied, 'My father.' His fingertip traced over the letters of the name. 'I never knew him.' He glanced at Harry. 'He died a few months after I was born. I guess he did. My mum wasn't sure. He went to the market one day for nappies and never came home. Mum reported him missing to the Muggle police, but obviously, they never found him.' Dean's shoulders hitched a little. 'I didn't know any of this until after the war,' he said quietly. 'My mum had my father declared dead when I was two and remarried. Laurence Thomas is my stepfather. He adopted me and I grew up thinking I was Muggle-born. After the war, I did some research and tracked down an Anthony Quinn who had married an Olivia Baptiste. I looked all over the Muggle resources and when I exhausted those, I started searching the wizarding ones. And I found him. In an article of the _Daily Prophet_. He was an illustrator. All those drawings in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ – those are his. I wish I knew what really happened to him.' Dean's eyes darkened with an expression Harry knew well. 'So when I agreed to do this, I asked the school governors if I could put this in here. So someone can remember Anthony Quinn used to be part of all this. Since he was never on the official lists of the missing in the wizarding world.'

Harry reached out a hand and squeezed Dean's shoulder. 'I'm sorry… I wish I'd known.'

Dean's gaze swept over the wall. 'Wouldn't have changed anything, mate…' His hands slid into his pockets and he slouched away from the corridor, back into the quiet noise of the Great Hall.

'God, it looks just like him,' George whispered, standing in front of the portrait of Fred. His fingers traced the contours of his twin's face, as tears streamed unheeded down his face. His hand splayed over Fred's mischievously grinning face and George's head sank to the wall, as he gasped for breath. Percy's arm wound around George's shoulders, gently embracing him.

'Here, let me take him,' Ginny murmured, lifting Albus from Harry's arms. 'Teddy won't come in here, and he won't let Andromeda bring him.'

Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his gritty eyes. 'Okay…' He followed Ginny into the Great Hall, and found Teddy sitting morosely poking at a piece of treacle tart, systematically demolishing it into smears of pastry and filling across the plate. Harry slid into the seat next to Teddy. 'Hey…'

'Hey…'

Harry's hand gently massaged the ridges in the back of Teddy's neck. 'I know it's hard. Especially since you never got to know them. But this will help… I promise.'

Teddy sniffed and shoved the plate away. He slid from his seat and nodded. 'Okay.' He took Harry's hand, and the two of them walked out of the Great Hall. Harry led Teddy into the corridor and folded himself to the floor, pulling Teddy down into his lap. Teddy silently looked up at the wall. 'Why did Mum always have pink hair?' he whispered loudly.

Harry let his head rest against the wall. 'Because she liked it. And when she was happy, it was pink. Well, when I knew her, that is.' Harry bent his head and pressed his lips to the top of Teddy's head. 'Your dad liked to read. Anything he could get his hands on. Your mum could barely walk and chew gum at the same time.' Harry chuckled softly. 'She could trip over a level sidewalk. She couldn't tidy anything to save her life. But she was a bloody good witch.'

'If she was so good, why did she die?'

Harry wrapped his arms around Teddy. 'It's not because she wasn't good enough,' he murmured. 'She was amazing. But that doesn't stop someone from sending a spell at her back.'

'What about Dad?'

Harry smiled against the top of Teddy's head. 'Your dad could make it all look so easy. He'd flick his wand and all the bad things would disappear. He was brilliant.'

Teddy slid out of Harry's lap and shuffled closer to the portraits of his parents. He reached up to touch them in turn, and as his hand fell away, he felt the merest brush of something against his head, like when Ginny came into his room at night to check on him. He whirled around, but the only other person in the corridor was Harry. 'Who did that?' demanded Teddy.

'Did what?' Harry asked.

'Touched me.'

'It wasn't me,' Harry replied.

Teddy looked down the corridor suspiciously, his hair darkening several shades.

*****

Arthur stood a little away from Molly and Andromeda, looking at the two of them, rather than the wall. They were a study in contrasts – Molly was somewhat short, with a wealth of curly red hair, that she derisively termed frizzy, and expressively emotive; while Andromeda was taller, her hair almost always tamed into a sedate chignon, and even after all these years, she still exuded the cool exterior of her childhood. Molly repeatedly dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, while Andromeda was seemingly impassive. Arthur knew better. Her fingers were wrapped around a small bouquet of wolfsbane and columbines, knuckles chalk-white from gripping the stems so tightly. She took a few steps forward, and knelt to gently lay the flowers underneath the portraits of her daughter and son-in-law. Arthur felt his lips turn up in a small smile. Remus, he knew, would not be offended by the wolfsbane. He would find it highly amusing. Arthur lifted his eyes to the wall, slowly taking in each portrait. Some were far too young, cheeks still round with childhood, while others had died with no one to remember them. He noticed the single lily under Snape's portrait and wondered who had left it. He let his fingers trail over the frame surrounding Fred's portrait in a brief caress, imagining for a moment it was his son's hair.

*****

Hermione got up from the table and abruptly walked out of the Great Hall without a word to anyone. She was hot, tired, and getting a headache from tension of not speaking to Ron. She needed to nurse Hugo soon, but he'd gone to sleep, and nothing short of an earthquake would wake him up, unless _he_ wanted to wake up, and Hermione wasn't in the mood to fuss with a breast pump. The memorial dedication didn't bother her, really. Not in the way people seemed to believe.

It had been Ron's chastisement to her that morning that she wasn't to pick up Hugo. She'd been barred from picking up either him or Rose for six weeks. It irritated her to have to depend on someone else. It didn't really matter that it was Ron, Molly, or Jane.

A hand closed around her elbow. 'What is the matter with you?' Ron pulled her around to face him.

'Nothing,' she said shortly, attempting to pull her arm from Ron's grasp. 'I'm fine, all right?'

Ron dropped her arm and studied her face for a moment. 'You ever notice the more you say you're fine, the less fine you are?' he commented. 'You've been saying you're fine for two weeks. No "I'm tired" or "I'm upset". Not even an "I'm so mad I could take on a hippogriff with my bare hands".'

Hermione crossed her arms tightly over her chest. 'I can't pick up my own son,' she ground out. 'My _son_ cries and I can't pick him up. My daughter has a nightmare and I can't be the one to pick her up and comfort her, even if _I'm_ the one that hears her cry out.' She swiped a hand over her cheeks. 'Damn it, Ron! Have you any idea what that's like? And I'm so angry about it, I don't even know where to begin!' She began to pace along the shore of the Black Lake, her hair escaping from the careful knot she'd wound it in that morning. 'Bloody hell, Ron, I don't even know _who_ to be angry with – me or you! I don't even know if I'm supposed to be angry at anyone! But it should have been _my_ choice and _my_ decision, and God, or, fate, or whatever you want to believe took it away from me!' she raged. 'It's not fair!' She turned her back to Ron, tears falling down her face. 'It's not fair,' she repeated.

Ron stared at the back of her head, his mouth open. He took a step toward her and reached out a tentative hand to her shoulder. She jerked away, and Ron let his hand fall to his side. 'What would have been less fair, Hermione, would have been for both you and Hugo to have died,' he said quietly. 'I know you're angry. But look at what we have,' he beseeched.

'I know,' Hermione rasped. 'We have Rose and Hugo, and that makes it feel so much worse, because why should I be upset when I – we – have them?'

Ron closed the distance between them, and put his hands on either side of her waist. 'Because you lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the ones you'll never have.' He slid his arms around his wife. 'God, I hate this day…'

*****

Harry walked into the house, breathing a sigh of relief. Soon, it would be over. He carried Albus up the stairs to begin the process of chipping away the layer of grime he had acquired over the course of the day. 'Do you want to put both of them in the same bath?' he asked Ginny, who was herding James up to the bathroom. 'Get them both done at the same time.'

'Sounds good to me,' Ginny replied, tiredly.

Harry went into the bathroom, and set Albus on the floor, jabbing his wand at the taps in the tub. The water would shut off automatically when the level reached the desired depth. Harry began to strip the soiled and stained clothing off Albus, tossing it into the small laundry basket in the corner. As soon as he sat Albus in the bath, he perched on the edge of the counter and stripped off his socks. One red with broomsticks, and one green with Snitches. Ginny dropped James' clothes into the basket and Harry lifted him into the bath with a grunt. 'You ate too many biscuits today,' he informed his offspring, giving James' round belly a gentle poke.

Ginny picked up Harry's discarded socks with an inquiring expression. 'I haven't seen you wear these in ages…'

'I wore them for Dobby,' Harry murmured, lathering a facecloth.

Albus brow furrowed. 'Who Bubbie?'

Harry smiled. 'Dobby,' he corrected. He began to wash Albus' back. 'Have I ever told you about Dobby?' he asked the two boys.'

'No…' James shook his head.

'Oh, well, then…' Harry cleared his throat. 'Once upon a time, there was a boy named Harry…'

'Tha's _your_ name,' James informed Harry.

'That's right. And one day, he received a most unusual visitor…'

*****

George shivered a little in the spring chill. He clutched a spray of pansies in one hand and laid them against the headstone that marked Fred's grave. He could feel Percy standing behind him, just like he had done all day. George took a step back and wrapped his arm around Percy. 'Thank you,' he said, barely above a whisper.

'You're welcome.'

*****

A/N: I feel like I should have warned everyone at the beginning… There is not enough chocolate in the world I can leave out for everyone after this… And at this point, I think we could all use some chocolate cheesecake.

I have to give credit to the idea of putting the battle memorial in this chapter to FinnFiona. She thought (as I did) that putting it up while people who were at school who had been involved would be a bad idea. I thought putting it up on the 10th anniversary would be enough distance.

As for Dean Thomas' parentage… He didn't know when he was in school that his biological father was a wizard, and the Harry Potter Lexicon says that even Dean's mother didn't know his father was a wizard. He disappeared one day, and was killed by Death Eaters after refusing to join them.


	12. The Art of Listening

Harry gazed at the filing cabinet on the opposite side of his office. It held copies of the records of every Death Eater they had captured during the war, or in its immediate aftermath. Dean's revelation about his father's history had gnawed on the edges of his conscience for weeks. He felt the key to solving the mystery of what had happened to Dean's father lay in those thick files. People didn't just _disappear_ like that. Harry supposed the late Anthony Quinn could have merely left his wife and child – walked out the door and left without a backward look. It wasn't entirely unknown. But Harry had met Dean's mother, Olivia a few times. And there was something in her eyes when she looked at Dean that made Harry think he resembled his father a great deal. Harry could see the sadness that lingered, even after the passage of time should have managed to dull it.

Coming to a decision, Harry pushed himself to his feet and skirted around the desk, and yanked open the drawer containing the records of the Death Eaters that still lived. He immediately discarded the Carrows. Neither of them had the intelligence to make a person drop off the face of the earth. Harry didn't think they would have known anything, either, if they had been in any position to hear of it. Crabbe and Goyle were discarded as well. A few names jumped out at Harry: Macnair, Yaxley, Rowle, Mulciber, and Lucius Malfoy. He pulled their files and threw them on his desk. After many agonizing moments of internal debate, Harry reluctantly pushed Lucius' aside. As cruel as Lucius could be, he hadn't been the type to get his hands dirty by actually doing anything. He was a planner, certainly, and had engaged in the torture of Muggles when it was unavoidable, so while he might not have committed the actual murder, he could have information about it. Harry opened each file left in turn: Mulciber, Yaxley, Rowle and Macnair. Each of them had been forced to make a list of their victims under the influence of Veritaserum, but Harry had a feeling their lists were somewhat incomplete. It sickened him slightly to consider that they had killed or tortured so many people that they couldn't remember all their names, even when someone was forcing them to try. There wasn't anything in their files to make Harry believe they were responsible for Anthony Quinn's disappearance and possible death – he couldn't find the name during a cursory scan of all four lists – but Harry could easily recall how each of them would attack their enemies with near-bloodthirsty glee.

Harry slowly closed the last file. They were each technically on Shacklebolt's list of prisoners to track. But Harry, as the Head Auror, could open an investigation into the disappearance of witch or wizard, even if it was nearly thirty years old, especially if the primary suspect was a Dark wizard, but with a caveat – he had to have concrete proof. Harry shoved the files into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Ginny was actually closer to Dean than Harry was – something that perplexed Harry, but he'd stopped questioning it a long time ago. If there were any doubts about how Dean would feel about having someone muck around in his family's history, Ginny could find out, if she didn't already know.

He checked his watch and swore softly. He was going to be late. And if he was late, Ginny was going to be late. And if Ginny was late, he was going to hear about it. Ginny hated being late to a match. 'Harry, it's after two-thirty.' Iain stuck his head through the door.

'I know…' Harry edged through the door. 'Hey, could you run by Kingsley's office and let him know I need to talk to him first thing next week?'

'All right.' Iain followed Harry to the lifts. 'What's it about?'

'Just need to investigate a missing person.'

Iain's thick brows rose in alarm. 'Who's missing?'

'It's an old case. Something that got filed with the Muggle police a long time ago by mistake.' Harry jabbed the button by the doors of the lift. 'It's not urgent, but I'd like to get started on it as soon as possible.'

'Okay.'

Harry glanced at his watch again. 'Bloody hell.' He was officially late. 'See you Monday.'

'Yeah, if Ginny hasn't hexed you into oblivion for being late.'

'I'll be lucky if she doesn't,' Harry sighed. 'I should know better by now…' The lift doors parted and Harry quickly walked through them. 'Wish me luck…'

'Good luck,' Iain called as the doors closed. 'You're going to need it…'

Harry's toes tapped impatiently on the floor as the lift rose toward the Atrium. Ginny wasn't going to be angry, really, but she'd certainly be cross. This wasn't a new routine for them – they'd been trading off taking care of the boys on game days like this since Ginny went back to work shortly before Albus' first birthday last year. Ginny hated feeling rushed, even more so when she was pregnant. When the doors finally opened, Harry surged off the lift and all but ran toward an Apparition point. He wrapped a hand around the strap of his bag and turned, rising on his toes in his haste. When he reappeared in the back garden of the house, he was already running toward the door.

He pushed the back door open and dropped his bag by the door as he closed it. Ginny wasn't waiting anxiously at the kitchen table, counting the seconds until he walked into the door. Frowning, Harry walked into the sitting room to find Ginny stretched out across the sofa, sound asleep. He knelt next to the sofa and gently shook her awake. 'Hey, it's after two-thirty,' he said softly when her eyelids fluttered open.

Ginny's eyes widened in shock and she struggled to sit up. 'What time is it?' she gasped.

'Twenty minutes to three.' Harry got to his feet and pulled Ginny off the sofa.

'Okay…' Ginny rubbed her hands over her face in an attempt to clear the cobwebs from her brain. 'Both of the boys have been asleep for about an hour. Andromeda called earlier and said she'd bring Teddy over as soon as he gets out of school.' Ginny ran her hands over her hair, trying to smooth it into a semblance of order. 'I ought to be home somewhat early. Before ten, anyway.' She swung her bag to her shoulder and head for the back door. 'Oh, and Seamus sent an owl today. He'll be here next weekend. Dean, too.'

'That's good,' Harry murmured. 'I'll see you when you get home, Gin.'

'Don't wait up,' she replied, with a smile.

'Daaaahhhdeeeeee!' Albus called from his bedroom.

Harry glanced up at the ceiling. 'I don't think that's going to be an issue,' he said, swiftly kissing Ginny. 'Go on before you're late for real.'

'See you later, then.' Ginny walked as quickly as she could out of the kitchen and Disapparated.

*****

Ginny opened the back door and quietly closed it. She wasn't horribly late, but it was well past James and Al's bedtime. She peeked at the clock on the kitchen wall and realized Teddy ought to have been in bed as well, but he was sitting on the sofa next to Harry, snuggled into him. Ginny hung back in the kitchen, hidden in the shadows. Whatever Harry was telling Teddy, it was far too indistinct for her to hear. Harry's wand was aloft and his Patronus flew from the tip. Teddy's eyes were wide as he listened to Harry, and Ginny realized Harry was telling Teddy about his third year when Remus taught him how to cast the Patronus charm. She knew Harry had described it to Teddy before, but this was the first time he had told the story like this. The large stag silently picked his way through the sitting room, and briefly nuzzled the top of Harry's head, then Teddy's before it gradually faded. Teddy slid off the sofa and Harry sent him upstairs with a gentle swat to his bottom.

Ginny shifted her weight, making the kitchen floor creak under her shoes and Harry's gaze swiveled toward the dark kitchen door. 'How long have you been there?'

'Just a few minutes.' Ginny eased down to an arm of sofa, toeing her shoes off. Her feet were swollen and the shoes were painfully snug. 'I saw what you were doing with Teddy…' Teddy had been a bit down since the memorial dedication last month.

'He was pestering me all night for stories about Remus,' Harry sighed. 'Well, not pestering, really, but asked about a thousand questions between the time Andromeda dropped him off until about thirty minutes ago.' Harry got to his feet and held his hands out for Ginny. 'I'm just going to go tuck him in,' he said quietly.

Ginny nodded, stifling a yawn. 'All right. I'm right behind you.' With a muffled grunt, she slid off the arm of the sofa and followed Harry up the stairs, albeit more slowly. She slipped into James' room and pried the book from his lax fingers, setting it on the night table next to his bed, and kissed her fingertips, before brushing them over his cheek. She dimmed the small lamp next to his bed, and drew the quilt over his small shoulders before padding across the corridor to Albus. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harry to put the boys to bed properly. It was that Ginny couldn't rest until she was certain all her boys were safe.

Albus was curled into a tight ball, his padded bottom jutting sharply into the air. Ginny had stopped worrying that he'd smother himself to the point where she didn't sleep, but if she happened to see him like this, she would gently nudge Albus until he flopped over on his side, sweaty hair sticking up in clumps around his head. Ginny cast a small Cooling charm over his cot and repeated the fingertip kiss to her youngest son.

She went into Teddy's bedroom, to find him lying on his back, his wide eyes staring at the ceiling, while he fiddled with the edge of the sheet. 'Hi,' she whispered.

Teddy turned his head toward Ginny. 'Hi,' he whispered back.

Ginny walked to the bed and lowered herself slowly to the edge. 'Mind if I sit?'

Teddy eyed Ginny and grinned a little. 'A little late to ask,' he said with a smirk. He turned to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder.

Ginny shifted a little so she could lean against the headboard of Teddy's bed. She gently rubbed his back, feeling him shiver. 'What's the matter, then?'

'I said something awful to Gran,' Teddy said so softly, Ginny had to strain to hear him. He sniffled and glanced up at Ginny. 'I told her I hated Mum and Dad for dying…' He looked down and rolled the hem of Ginny's shirt between his fingers.

'When did you tell her this?'

'Before we went to Hogwarts,' Teddy said miserably. 'I don't really hate them.'

'She knows,' Ginny assured him. Teddy frowned at her doubtfully and Ginny's hand moved to Teddy's hair, fingers sliding through the thick strands. 'People say things they don't mean all the time when they're upset.' She kissed the top of Teddy's head.

'Do you think my mum and dad heard me?' Teddy asked worriedly.

Ginny bit her lip in uncertainty. She didn't know what to tell Teddy without distressing him further. 'They know you didn't mean it.'

'I wish I knew them…' Teddy said sleepily. 'I think she touched me…' he mumbled on the edge of sleep.

'Who?' Ginny asked.

'Mum…'

Ginny frowned slightly. 'When…?

'In that corridor with all the pictures,' Teddy yawned. In a few moments, he had fallen asleep, still snuggled against Ginny's side.

Ginny sat quietly for several long moments, one hand resting on Teddy's back, feeling the rise and fall of his deep, even breathing, and the other resting over her rounded abdomen, circling slowly, hoping to soothe Lily's urgent kicks. She looked down at Teddy's sleeping face and the hair that flopped over his eyes. The ends of his hair were bright, bubblegum pink – a hue Teddy tried to _never_ wear if he could help it. Ginny tipped her face toward the ceiling. 'We'll take care of him. Just like we always have. And we always will. I promise,' she murmured. By the time her gaze returned to Teddy, the ends of his hair were their customary turquoise.

*****

Harry stretched out in the bed, staring sightlessly at the book on his knees. He looked at Ginny, attempting to find a comfortable position to sleep. 'How tired are you?'

'Why?'

'I need to ask you something…'

Ginny pushed herself into a sitting position. 'About…?'

Harry closed the book, marking his place with a scrap of parchment. 'It's about Dean,' he said quietly.

'What about Dean?'

'You know about his father, right?'

Ginny nodded. 'Yeah. Dean told me our last year of school that he'd disappeared. But that was all he knew about it. His mother never told him about his biological father until after the war.'

Harry chewed a thumbnail for a moment. 'If I could try to find out, do you think he'd want to know?'

Ginny sighed. 'I think so.' She frowned at Harry. 'Why now?'

Harry rolled to his side, facing Ginny. He laid a hand over her abdomen, pushing slightly, smiling a little when Lily pushed back. 'I remember how hard it was to find out my parents had been murdered when I was eleven, but I'd known my whole life they were dead. I can only imagine what it must be like to find out one day your father just left and never came back…' He slid down until his face was level with Ginny's navel. 'If something happened to me, I'd want them to know…'

Ginny wound her fingers through Harry's inky hair. 'How much will you be able to tell him?'

'Everything. If what I think is true, and his father was murdered, I'll be able to tell him when, who did it, why… At least I hope…'

'Why are you so certain Dean's father died?'

Harry's eyes closed. 'Because I could never walk out on you or the kids. The night James was born; I knew the only way I'd ever leave you is if someone killed me. Even Vernon wouldn't have just abandoned Petunia or Dudley. I mean, I know it happens, but…' He shrugged. 'It's just a feeling,' he explained.

Ginny's hands slid to the taut lines of Harry's neck. 'Do it. But tell him only if you can find out what happened for sure.'

'What if I can't?' Harry whispered hoarsely.

'You're not a miracle worker, love,' Ginny replied softly. 'You're only Harry Potter, and there's only so much you can do.'

*****

'What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?' Hermione fumed, as she strode angrily through the door of Harry's office.

'I thought you were on maternity leave,' Harry said, startled by Hermione's presence.

'I am. But I get an owl from you this morning asking about the legality of investigating something using Legilimency when you don't have any concrete proof.'

'You could have just owled back.' Harry retorted. 'Rather than come all the way up here.'

'Could have,' Hermione agreed. 'But then I couldn't do this.' She reached over Harry's desk and smacked him on the back of the head.

'Ow!'

'What's gotten into you? Investigating something that's completely baseless?'

'Last month, Dean told me his father disappeared when he was a baby and was never found.' Harry shrugged helplessly.

Hermione dropped into one of the chairs in front of Harry's desk and pressed her thumbs into the ridge under her eyebrows. 'He could have just left. If someone doesn't want to be found, Harry, they won't be found. Why is this so important to you? This isn't just justice to you. This is almost a vendetta.'

Harry stretched his feet out in front of him. 'When I found out exactly how my parents died, it was such a relief to finally know. In an odd sort of way.' He leaned forward almost insistently. 'I just can't stand the idea of someone not _knowing_.'

'This seriously walks the line between legal and illegal, you know. Not having any evidence,' she sighed. 'Who do you suspect?' Harry reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the four files, pushing them wordlessly across the desk. Hermione pulled them toward her, tilting them so she could read the names. 'Oh.' She eyed Harry. 'Have you told Kingsley this?' she asked briskly.

'Not yet. I wanted to go over the terms of their imprisonment before I got started. I need to know how far I can go and stay on the legal side of things.'

'Do you have copies of their terms in their files?' Hermione asked. 'I've got an hour or so before I have to go back home. You can at least go talk to Kingsley prepared with something.'

'Yeah.' Harry flipped open the topmost file.

Hermione scanned the document with a slight frown. 'You've already used Legilimency to see if they were telling the truth during their trials about what they did during the war.'

'Yes, but this is something that happened nearly twenty years before that, and was never investigated by Aurors or the MLE and wouldn't have come up in their trials.' Harry countered. 'Can I use it for that?'

'I'm not sure,' Hermione said, biting her lip. 'It's one thing if you do have enough proof to suspect them, but you don't have anything to go on. Not even a name that might be his in their confessions.'

'What if…?' Harry tugged the file from under Hermione's fingers. 'What if I have their permission?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No. You need something. Otherwise, you're just casting a net to see what comes up.'

'Damn it.' Harry let his head drop to the surface of the desk.

Hermione glanced down at the open file between them on the desk. 'Are you sure he's not listed in there?'

'Not really,' Harry admitted. 'I pored over them all weekend. Maybe his name is spelled wrong, and I'm missing it. And I'd really like to have Dean's father's name or something close to it.'

'There is a good chance you're never going to be able to find out,' Hermione pointed out.

'I have to try,' Harry stubbornly maintained.

'I know,' Hermione grumbled. 'You always do.' She looked down at her watch. 'While I'm here I might as well help… Hand me a file…'

*****

Dean looked around the newly-vacated room. 'It's going to be a girl, right?'

Ginny nodded. 'Her name's Lily.'

Dean rubbed a hand over his head. 'How girlie do you want it?'

Ginny grimaced. 'Not very.'

'So no princesses or unicorns, eh?' Dean laughed.

'No.' Ginny's head tilted to the side. 'I want something that will grow up with her, like James and Al's.'

Dean gnawed a thumbnail, as he glanced around the walls again. 'Maybe something like what's in James and Al's rooms, but without the symbolism?' James' room had a mural containing a stag, a wolf, and a large black dog, while Albus' featured a gold and red phoenix.

'Put in a doe,' Ginny said softly. 'I'll leave the rest of it up to you. I trust your judgment.'

Dean grinned, and waved his wand at a small pile of brushes. They began to create outlines of a forested valley. 'I can make the sun rise and set,' he remarked, 'but I think the way the light plays in here will do the same thing.' He pulled a sharpened pencil from a bag and began to sketch the outline of a doe on one wall.

A crash echoed from downstairs and Ginny rolled her eyes at the sound of James' angry squalling. 'Better go before it turns nasty down there. I don't want to turn Hannah totally off parenthood.'

'Go on,' Dean said. 'I'm fine here…'

Ginny made her way to the sitting room, where Hannah was trying to keep James from yanking the chunky wooden building block from Albus' hand. 'James, you have your own blocks,' Hannah tried to explain.

'But I _need_ tha' one,' James whined.

'But Albus is using it,' Hannah said soothingly, attempting to defuse the situation. In response, James flung one of his blocks across the room with an irate yell.

Ginny picked James up and set him down on one of the steps of the staircase firmly. 'You will have to stay here for four minutes,' she informed him. 'Because you threw the block.' James began to howl in outrage, but Ginny walked away, ignoring him. 'I must be insane,' she commented idly.

Hannah looked up from her place on the floor between Albus and Rose. 'Why is that?'

'I'm adding another one to the insanity that's already here,' Ginny said wryly.

'I'd love to have this kind of insanity,' Hannah said, running her hand over Rose's bright curls.

'What's going on down here?' Harry asked, raising his voice over James' cries of displeasure.

'The usual,' Ginny said.

'Oh. All right, then.' He tilted his head to the office. 'Can I have a word for a mo?' He waited for Ginny to walk into the office and followed her, closing the door behind him. 'I've got the report for Dean,' he said quietly. 'I thought you might be the best one to give it to him.'

'Shouldn't you do it?' Ginny asked skeptically. 'It's Auror business…'

Harry shook his head. 'It's just information. And Dean will want to take this from you, and not me.' He laid a hand gently on a thin folder lying on the middle of his desk. 'Just sometime today…'

'What does it say?' Ginny was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Harry shook his head. 'It's not good, Gin…'

*****

Hermione hoisted Hugo to her shoulder and began to firmly pat his back, until she heard a deep, rumbling belch next to her ear. She knew Harry had discovered what had happened to Dean's father. It had been relatively easy, once they found his name in both Macnair and Mulciber's files. It had been badly misspelled in both files, appearing as "Andy Quine" in Macnair's and something that might have been "Angie Kwan" in Mulciber's. Spelling, it seemed, was not a priority for Death Eaters. It was enough to arouse suspicion, and enough, legally, to allow Harry to take a somewhat clandestine trip to Azkaban. One that had left him shaken and unnerved for the next several days. His smile as he greeted her and Ron that morning had still been tight and his eyes were deeply shadowed.

She continued to rock in the rocking chair in Albus' room for several more minutes, Hugo drowsing on her shoulder. She tightened her arms around Hugo and carefully stood up. Hermione could hear Dean murmuring the charms to clean his brushes and any drips that had landed on the floor. Curiously, she peered around the partially-open door into what would become Lily's room. It was, as usual, done in Dean's whimsical style. Owls modeled after Ginny and Harry's own owls perched on the branches of a large tree in one corner. A doe delicately picked her way toward a small pond that sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight that poured through one of the windows. Wildflowers waved in the breeze underneath the window seat. It was as if Dean had lifted a scene from a storybook. 'It's lovely,' Hermione said softly, even though she knew she could have shouted and Hugo wouldn't have stirred.

Dean looked around proudly. 'Thanks. I didn't mean to take it this far, but once I got going…' He held a hand out to the doe, who snuffled his hand. 'Could you tell Ginny it's done while I get my things sorted?'

'Sure.' Hermione took one last look at the room. 'Maybe I ought to have you do a Quidditch theme in Rose's room.'

Dean grinned. 'Ron's been indoctrinating her already, huh?'

'Before she was even born,' Hermione sighed, turning to leave the room. She found Ginny in the kitchen, her feet propped on a chair, sipping a cup of tea. 'Where are Ron and Harry?'

'Still arguing over the best way to set up Teddy's things.' Ginny set the cup down with a smirk. 'Doesn't matter what they do, Teddy's just going to rearrange it next weekend anyway.'

'Dean's done with the room, if you want to go up and see it.'

'Brilliant.' Ginny heaved herself to her feet and started to go up the stairs. She paused on a lower step, and glanced down. 'What do you think, Lily? Is now a good time?' She felt a small undulation under her palm. 'Right. Never a good time for something like this, is there?' She trudged into the office and reluctantly picked up the folder. Clutching it securely in one hand, Ginny went up the stairs and turned into Lily's room.

It was far beyond anything Ginny had expected. 'Oh, Dean…' she breathed. 'It's perfect.'

'Thanks.' Dean ducked his head bashfully and continued to pack his supplies carefully cleaning them as he did so. 'What's the story behind the doe?' he asked interestedly.

'Harry's mother's name was Lily. Her Patronus was a doe.'

'So you _did_ go with the symbolism,' Dean chortled. 'The two of you are entirely too predictable,' he proclaimed, pointing a clean brush at Ginny.

Ginny shifted her feet uncomfortably for a moment. 'Dean, I need to talk to you for a moment,' she said in a rush.

Frowning at the tone of Ginny's voice, Dean set the brush in a compartment of his supply box and slowly straightened. 'Sure.'

Ginny took his hand and gently tugged Dean to the window seat and sat down. She patted the space next to her. 'You'll want to sit for this,' she cautioned.

Dean's frown deepened, but he perched on the edge of window seat. 'What's wrong?' he asked uneasily. 'Is Harry dying from some horrible disease?'

Ginny shook her head. 'No. This is about you.'

'What about me?' Wordlessly, Ginny held the file out to Dean. Startled, Dean took the file. 'What is this?'

'It's about your father,' Ginny said quietly. Dean jumped, his hand closing convulsively around the edge of the file, badly creasing it. He swallowed hard and fingered the opening of the file. 'You don't have to read it now,' Ginny assured him.

'I think I might want to,' Dean said tightly.

Ginny laid a hand on his wrist. 'I can stay,' she said simply. 'Or I can go.'

A muscle in Dean's jaw jumped. 'You can do whatever you want. Doesn't matter.'

'I'll leave you alone, then,' Ginny decided. 'But I'll be just outside the door.'

Dean's eyes remained glued to the file, but he nodded to show Ginny he'd heard her. Ginny slid off the window seat and went into the corridor. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over the top of her abdomen and waited. She knew what the report said. Harry had made her read it. It was distressingly brief. Dean's father had been kidnapped in a London alley in late April 1980. He had been tortured by Macnair and Mulciber using the Cruciatus curse, in an attempt to persuade him to join the Death Eaters. When he refused, Macnair had killed him. Mulciber Transfigured the body into a bone and then they threw it into a rubbish bin, like a piece of garbage.

Ever since Harry had shown her the report earlier that day, Ginny had contemplated what was worse – not knowing what had happened and spending the rest of your life wondering; or knowing your father had been treated with less respect than those arsewipes would have shown a dead animal. She thought she might prefer to remain ignorant of the facts. But Dean had seemed anxious to find out.

Ginny leaned toward the open door. It had been several minutes, but she hadn't heard a sound come from the room. She moved to stand just outside the doorway and examined Dean. He sat motionless on the window seat, the parchment at his feet, staring blindly at the floor. Ginny drew closer and noticed the fine dew of sweat liberally dotting his face and the ashen hue of the skin under his eyes. A few more steps toward him revealed his lips were tightly clamped together, as if he was trying not to vomit. Ginny slowly sank to the window seat next to him, and gently laid a hand over one of Dean's. It was cold and trembled slightly. Dean's hand turned and gripped hers tightly. He cleared his throat a few times before managing to ask, 'Did you know what it said?' His voice sounded strange to his own ears, oddly high and tight.

'Yes.'

Dean nodded once and Ginny put an arm around his shoulders, aware the trembling in his hand had spread throughout his entire body. Her arm tightened, and Dean's head dropped to her shoulder.

*****

A/N: Thanks to Steph for helping me write the scene with Dean and Ginny at the end.

And I will leave out lots and lots of M&Ms for this chapter…


	13. Just Call Me Mummy

James lay on his stomach on the floor of the sitting room, a box of crayons scattered around him, scribbling on a blank piece of paper. Albus was quietly playing with a pile of wooden blocks, warily glancing at James from time to time. James could be deceptively docile, something Albus had learned at an early age, and decide he wanted to play with whatever Albus had. Ginny sprawled in an armchair, her feet propped on an ottoman. She didn't recognize them, swollen as they were. She kept an eye on the boys, her wand held loosely in one hand, ready to put a Shield charm between them, if she had to. Going out the back garden was a little more than Ginny could handle alone. There were too many potential catastrophes for the boys to crawl into. The sand pit alone was worth at least two thrown handfuls of sand, three temper tantrums, and two crying fits from sand in one of their eyes – all within the first ten minutes. She needed at least one other person to help her run interference.

Ginny sighed and shifted a few times, wiggling her toes. The Ministry ball was next Saturday and she hadn't had a chance to find something she could wear that wouldn't make her look like she was wearing the marquee from Bill and Fleur's wedding. And forget wearing shoes. She hadn't been able to wear a pair of shoes that didn't feel three sizes too small after an hour in two weeks. Harry was going to undergo that little procedure Shanti told her about, if she had to Stun him and bodily drag him into St. Mungo's. Ginny didn't understand how her mother had been able to do this six times. Three was quite enough for her.

'Hiya!' Hermione's voice floated from the kitchen.

'Hi,' Ginny sighed.

'How is it, then?' Hermione walked through the kitchen door, sending Rose to play with Albus, and dropped her bag on the floor next to the sofa, as she sat down. She pulled a small object from the bag and set it in an open space between the armchair Ginny occupied and the sofa. Pointing her wand at the object, it swiftly expanded until a travel cot appeared. She laid a sleeping Hugo in it and gave Ginny a wry look, before waving her wand in Ginny's direction.

Ginny felt a wave of coolness wash over her and she sighed in relief. 'Thanks,' she breathed sincerely. 'It's beastly in here.'

'Why don't you go outside?'

Ginny pointed to James and Albus. 'Reasons one and two.'

'Ah. Say no more.'

Ginny gazed at Hermione contemplatively. 'What are you doing tomorrow?'

'Oh, the usual. Wake up, feed Hugo, give him a bath and change him while Ron gets Rosie up and dressed. Eat breakfast. Feed Hugo again. Take Rosie to the play park for a bit before lunch. Feed Hugo. Give Rosie her lunch. Put her and Hugo down for a nap. Eat my lunch. Read a bit while I've got a few hours to myself. Feed Hugo. Play with Rosie for a while. Help Ron with dinner. Give Rose a bath and put her to bed, while Ron gets some time with Hugo and gets him ready for bed. Feed Hugo, then collapse into bed, wondering if I can handle the next four months without going mad, counting the days until my maternity leave is over.'

Ginny's mouth twitched. 'A simple "nothing" would have sufficed,' she said dryly.

Hermione laughed. 'Yeah, all right. Nothing. Why?'

'Are you going to the Ministry ball this year?'

'Sadly, yes. I think Ron's going to pack sandwiches in my handbag, though. He's taking requests.'

'Do you have anything to wear, or are you going to make do with something you've worn before?

'Can't fit into what I wore last year,' Hermione snorted. 'I _have_ to go find something,' she muttered darkly. 'Hate shopping for clothes.'

'Want to give Mum a call and see if she'll watch the heathens tomorrow for a few hours so we can find something to wear? I don't care if I have to use my entire month's pay to buy a dress, just as long as I can avoid Madam Malkin's.'

'What about that one you wore when you were pregnant with James? To that Quidditch thing.' Hermione Summoned two glasses from the kitchen. She tapped the rims of the glasses and they filled with water.

Ginny picked up one of the glasses and took several long swallows. 'Thanks. I tried it on last week, actually,' she said. 'Doesn't fit. There's so much cleavage, I look like a prostitute. A very fat prostitute.'

'We could get you a nun's habit from a costume shop,' Hermione countered.

Ginny gazed at the chipped varnish on her toes and glanced at Hermione. 'That might actually be a possibility.'

*****

Harry lay in bed shivering. He'd didn't remember Ginny's Cooling charms being this cold in the Soho flat when she was pregnant with James. He pushed the bedding back and lunged for the bureau, scrabbling for the bottom drawer. He dug out a worn and shabby jumper and put a Warming charm on it, yanking it over his head. 'How can you not be cold?' he demanded.

Ginny flopped onto the bed, arms and legs outstretched in an attempt to get the cool air on as much of her as possible. 'It's not that bad,' she sighed, shoving as much of the quilt to Harry's side of the bed as possible.

Harry eyed Ginny, clad only in a camisole and her knickers. 'That's all you're going sleep in?'

'You _can_ sleep in Teddy's room,' Ginny growled.

'I'll just get some socks, then,' Harry muttered. Dealing with the dark and narrow stairs at night that led to the attic was an activity for people under the age of twenty. He rummaged for a pair of socks and pulled them over his feet, diving back into the bed. 'Are you sure you're up to the ball this year?'

Ginny turned her head on her pillow. Harry's face was covered up to his eyes. She laughed to herself and pulled the quilt down to expose the rest of his face. 'Truthfully?'

'Yeah.'

'Yes and no.'

Harry sat up, wrapping the quilt around him tightly. 'Hang on, I'm a little confused. Are you up to it or not?'

'Can we go, make an appearance, then leave early?' Ginny asked hopefully. 'Between the swollen feet, the heartburn, feeling like a furnace all the time, I'm not sure I want to spend all evening around people.'

A moment of silence stretched between them. 'I have never wanted you more,' Harry finally said sincerely, before Ginny's pillow smacked him square in the face.

'Oh the romance, right?' she said with a chuckle. It slid into a gasp of pain and she pressed a hand to her chest.

'Heartburn?' Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. 'Yeah…'

'I'll be right back.' Harry slid out of bed, tripping over the quilt tangled around his feet. He stopped to kick the quilt from his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. Ginny had begun to keep a box of bicarbonate of soda in the cupboard in there. She had gotten tired of making the trip into the kitchen every time she got heartburn at night – a frequent occurrence the past few months. He dumped what looked like enough bicarbonate of soda into a glass and filled it with water. As he handed the glass to Ginny he smiled at her. 'They never say it's like this.'

Ginny lowered the glass and wiped her upper lip with the back of one hand. 'What is?'

'Marriage. All those Muggle novels I've read. They end with the wedding, but never get into things like stretch marks, heartburn or swollen feet,' he mused.

Ginny hooted. 'Of course not. If they did, nobody would ever get married.' She upended the glass and drained it. 'Thanks.' She set the glass down on the night table. She reached for Harry's hand and twined her fingers through his.

Harry brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Ginny's. 'You know I love you, don't you?'

Ginny glanced at the glass, cloudy with the residue of the mixture of water and bicarbonate of soda. 'Yeah, I do.'

'I know I don't always say it,' he muttered, the back of his neck flushing a dull red.

'You don't have to,' Ginny murmured. 'But it's nice to hear it once in a while.' Ginny tilted her head toward the bed. 'Better get some sleep I have a feeling it's going to be one of those weeks…'

*****

'I wanna go!' whined James, his lower lip comically thrust out in displeasure.

Ginny pulled James' other foot into her lap and pushed his foot into his shoe. 'Not this time, Jemmy,' she sighed. 'Grandad's going to be there,' she added enticingly. 'Maybe he'll take you into the village for an ice cream after lunch.'

'Not Albie or Rosie,' James insisted. 'Jus' me!'

Ginny frowned at James. 'Then you'll have to bring something back for them,' she said crisply. 'Or I'll tell Grandad no ice cream.' James' small face scrunched in displeasure. He'd seen the small cake for Albus' second birthday in the pantry earlier and howled in fury when Harry had told him he couldn't have any until tomorrow. Needless to say, it had put James in something of a testy mood.

'No…' he huffed

'All right, then,' Ginny told him. 'I'll tell Grandad no ice cream.'

'Noooooo!' James wailed. 'I wan' ice cream wi' Grandad!'

Ginny pushed James' foot off her lap. 'One… two…' she began warningly.

James' mouth snapped shut. Stubborn as he was, he was also a quick study. It hadn't taken more than a few times to learn that when Ginny started counting, he was going to spend some time on the second step of the staircase. James hated the step. It didn't matter how much he cried, screamed, or yowled, Ginny and Harry both ignored him. If he tried to leave the step, they firmly put him back on it. The few minutes he spent on the step felt like an eternity to his almost four-year old self. 'Ice cream wi' Grandad,' he said in a small voice. 'We brin' some back f' Rosie an' Albie,' he added reluctantly.

'Brilliant,' Ginny muttered. She turned her attentions to Albus, who was industriously filling Harry's old school bag, shrunk to a manageable size for him, with toys to take to the Burrow. 'That's enough, Albie,' she said. 'Grandmum has plenty of toys for you at her house.'

Albus shook his head, making his fluffy black hair fly around his ears. 'Wan' deese,' he said, wrapping his chubby fingers around the strap of the bag. 'Gots Pyay-ooh,' Albus informed his mother seriously.

Ginny ran a hand through her hair. She knew the suggested minimum age on the package of Play-Doh was listed as three years, but Albus could entertain himself for ages. The biggest risk was he might try to eat it, like he'd tried to do the first time Harry let him play with the stuff. The worst that had happened then was Albus had gotten an upset stomach and his nappy was festooned with purple and green-streaked poo. It had actually distressed Albus' parents more than it had Albus. 'Fine,' she finally said. 'Take it with you, but for God's sake, don't eat it, all right?'

'No eadh,' Albus promised solemnly.

'Fantastic.' Ginny slung Albus' bag securely over his small shoulder and held out her left hand. 'Take a finger,' she instructed. James' hand snaked out and wrapped around her index finger, while Albus's took her smallest one. 'Ready?' she asked, taking a handful of Floo powder form the flower pot on the mantle. She tossed the sparkling powder into the flames. 'The Burrow!', she cried as she stepped into the emerald flames, clutching Albus and James tightly as the flames whirled around them.

She stumbled out of the fireplace at the Burrow, nearly pitching to the floor, but Arthur had been waiting for them. He caught Ginny before she could do more than trip over her toes. The boys immediately let go, and tumbled across the hearthrug, giggling madly. They enjoyed the arrival when they traveled by Floo. 'Hermione's not here yet,' Arthur said. 'You look done in already,' he observed. 'Go in the kitchen and get yourself a cuppa, eh?'

'Thanks.' Ginny set her bag on the floor next to the sofa. 'How did you manage to get a day off in the middle of the week like this?'

Arthur snorted. 'I'm hardly ever ill,' he stated. 'I've loads of sick leave, just sitting there. When I retire, they're going to owe me money for my unused leave.'

'Why don't you retire?' Ginny asked curiously.

'Your mum won't let me,' Arthur replied promptly. 'Says all I'll do is tinker in my tool shed all day. Or be in here, underfoot, trying to get her to do things the Muggle way, just to see what it's like.'

'She's probably right.' Ginny grinned at her father.

'Probably,' Arthur agreed. 'Most of my staff is able to handle at least one day without me,' he said sheepishly. 'They get all that Muggle stuff more than I do and if something does come in that needs to be sorted, the more senior members can make sure it's done. These days, it's mostly charms or hexes on ordinary things teapots or the like. Most of the time it's a family dispute. Siblings playing tricks on each other, and the object gets packed away in a carton and forgotten, then the whole box is donated wholesale to some Muggle church rummage sale or a boot sale.'

Ginny shook her head. Arthur was almost maniacal about checking to make sure anything non-magical had any and all enchantments lifted when it left their possession. She headed for the kitchen, but stopped and doubled back to where Arthur was crouched on the floor, admiring Albus' collection of Play-Doh pots and plastic cutters. 'Hey, Dad?'

'Hmmm?'

'Could you take James down to the village after lunch later?' she asked, widening her eyes significantly. 'Like we used to do?'

Arthur stared at Ginny in obvious bewilderment for several long moments until his face cleared and he nodded vigorously. 'Oh, right. Of course.' He glanced down at Albus. 'And the other two?'

'Bring something back for them.'

'I think we can do that,' Arthur said with a smile.

*****

Hermione glanced at Hugo in the carrycot and did a double-take. He had managed to work one of his socks off and was contentedly sucking the toes of his bare foot. Hermione started to pull his foot from his mouth, but decided to just leave it. It wasn't as if he'd been running down the street in his bare feet, and of all the things he could managed to shove into his mouth, his feet were the least of her worries.

Rose stood in front of her, clutching her miniature Cannons robes in a death grip.

'Rosie, darling, you can't wear those every day,' Hermione patiently explained, while inside, she was ready to scream in frustration. It was the same argument every day for the past month. Sometimes, Hermione or Ron could get Rose to relent and wear something else.

'Wan' weh Cahn'ns!' Rose stubbornly maintained, her tiny brows drawing together in a truly ferocious scowl.

Hermione checked her watch and sighed. She was running late and was sure Ginny was already at the Burrow waiting for her. 'Fine…' She knelt to help Rose pull the robes over her pinafore, trying not to visibly wince at the combination of lurid orange robes and Rose's bright red hair. 'Go get your bag, Rosie, okay?'

Beaming in pleasure, Rose picked up her small bag that was crammed with books, and went to stand next to the fireplace. 'Le's go, Mummee!'

'In just a moment.' Hermione slipped the sling over her head and lifted Hugo from the carrycot, slipping him into the sling. She pulled her wand from her bag and jabbed it at the carrycot, shrinking it so it could fit into the bag. After stowing the shrunken carrycot, and picking up the bag, she stood up and motioned to Rose. 'Come on, Rosie, we're not Floooing to Grandmum's today.' Rose's face fell slightly – she loved Flooing – but she took her mother's outstretched hand and held it tightly.

As soon as they reappeared outside the back garden gate of the Burrow, Rose dropped Hermione's hand and ran into the kitchen. 'Gran'mum!'

Molly smiled and held her arms out. Rose ran directly to her, flinging herself into Molly's lap. Molly reached for a biscuit on the plate between her and Ginny and offered it to Rose. Glancing up at Hermione, who trailed in more slowly after Rose, she flicked her wand at the cupboard, and a cup and saucer sailed to the table. 'Rough morning, then?' she asked.

'A little,' Hermione murmured, sitting at the table and pouring tea into the cup. Ron was still hovering. The solicitous concern was grating first thing in the morning and she'd snapped at him, and things went downhill from there. Bickering was their ­_modus operandi_ much of time, but it usually wasn't as sharp as it had been that morning. Ron had stormed out in a fit of pique, and Rose had pitched a temper tantrum of monumental proportions when he wasn't there at breakfast. It had put Hermione behind a great deal and she was nearly an hour late meeting Ginny.

Molly gave Hermione a long, calculating look. 'Take your time, the both of you.' She picked up her cup and took a sip. 'What are you two girls planning on doing?'

Ginny held out a foot, and pointed her toes. 'Shoes,' she sighed. 'I think we're going to have to stop at Madam Malkin's anyway. The last time I tried to charm my shoes to accommodate my feet like this, they never quite fit the same afterward I lifted the charm. And I don't think I can wear flip flops to a ball.'

'Why don't both of you get dress robes at Madam Malkin's and be done with it?' Molly asked.

Both Hermione and Ginny made faces of disgust. 'Oh Mum, dress robes are so old-fashioned,' Ginny laughed.

'Better to be old-fashioned, than gallivanting about London in your condition in this weather,' Molly retorted.

'We'll hardly be gallivanting, Mum,' Ginny snorted. 'There's only so many places that carry things that will fit over all this,' she drawled, sweeping a hand over her belly.

'And on that note,' Hermione said, draining her tea. 'Let's go while everyone's distracted.'

'Good idea,' Ginny murmured. She and Hermione slipped out the back door. 'See you in a bit, Mum.'

*****

The Leaky Cauldron was cool and dark, two things Ginny very much appreciated after the blinding summer sunshine. She peered through the dim pub, searching for a table in a corner. 'There's one,' she muttered, elbowing Hermione in the ribs. They wound their way through the crowded pub, dropping their carrier bags on the floor behind the table. Hermione pushed one of the extra chairs toward Ginny, and she propped her feet in it with a sigh of relief.

'Oh, thank Merlin you're here!' said Hannah. She hurried to their table and grabbed Ginny's hand, tugging on it. 'I need your help,' she said in a low voice. 'It's Dean.'

'What's the matter?' Ginny asked, swinging her feet to the floor, and allowing Hannah to pull her to her feet.

Hannah led Ginny to one of the private rooms to the side. 'He's been holed up in there for two days, and Merlin knows where he was before that.' Hannah paused and looked at Ginny. 'I was about to send an owl. I know this isn't a good time for you, but he's really in a bad way…'

Ginny sidled to the door Hannah indicated and knocked firmly. 'Dean?' There was no answer. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. 'Right. I need my wand.'

'Here.' Hermione pressed Ginny's wand into her hand.

Ginny jabbed the wand at the door, and it swung open slightly. She pushed it open wider and found Dean sprawled across a sofa, a bottle dangling from his fingers. 'Dean?'

Dean's head slowly turned and he squinted through the darkness of the room. 'Leave me alone.'

Ginny glanced at Hannah and Hermione. 'Go on,' she whispered. 'I've got him.' She slipped into the room, and closed the door. 'Hiya…'

Dean lifted the bottle, and upended it. He seemed surprised to find it was empty. 'When I found out my dad wasn't my father, I wasn't angry at my mum.' He let the bottle fall to the floor, where it landed with a muffled _thump_. 'Well, I was angry she'd never told me about him and tried to hide it from me. And for the longest time, while I was looking for him, I thought he was just some arsewipe who got tired of being married and just left my mum and me. And I _hated_ him for it.'

'If you hated him, why did you bother looking for him?' wondered Ginny.

'Because I had to know,' Dean grunted, attempting to sit up. 'I wanted to try and find him, and go show him I managed to become a good man without him. Just so look him in the eyes and tell him I didn't need him. Then when I found out he was a wizard, I thought maybe he did just leave, because things were bad then, to protect my mum, since she was a Muggle… But, then why didn't he come back?' Dean's voice cracked. 'I thought, why didn't my father want me?' he added, sounding like a hurt child. 'Because what kind of father doesn't want his own kid?'

Ginny didn't reply. She knew Dean wasn't looking for an answer.

'It wasn't until I started working on the memorial that I thought he might have died.' Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. 'I don't even know what I feel now.' He slumped forward. 'At least I know what happened to him…' Dean's voice trailed off and he fell to the side, snoring softly in the dark room.

Ginny got to her feet and maneuvered Dean until he was lying on the sofa once more. She conjured a fluffy blanket and draped it over his body, then left the room. Hannah and Hermione were at the table, chatting quietly. Ginny braced her hands on the table and dropped into her chair. 'He's asleep,' she told Hannah. 'Or passed out, I'm not sure. Send an owl to Seamus later. He can come collect Dean and take him home.'

'Is he going to be all right?' Hannah asked.

Ginny stared broodingly into the glass of water at her place on the table. 'Eventually.'

*****

Ron sprawled on the edge of the sofa, glancing impatiently at the bathroom door. 'Come on, Hermione, we're going to be late!'

'I'll be out in a minute!' Hermione called through the tightly closed door. She bit her lip and grimaced at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She didn't see the scar across her right breast anymore. It was a souvenir from the battle in the Department of Mysteries and the spell Dolohov had shot at her. It had long since faded into thin silvery lines she hardly noticed. She didn't mind the extra weight she still carried around her waist from carrying Hugo. It was part of the process, and besides, with enough Lycra, she could beat it into submission.

Of their own accord, the fingers of one hand trailed across the livid scar bisecting her abdomen. It could have faded by now, if she used the salve they'd given her at the hospital, but she every time she opened the small pot, her finger hovered over it, unable to go lower. Moments like this, when she caught sight of herself naked, she mentally catalogued everything she had done during the pregnancy and wracked her brain trying to figure out what she had done wrong.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione turned away from the mirror and began to dress. She even flicked her wand over her shoulder, and the zipper rose up the back, rather than calling for Ron to come do it up. After one last glance in the mirror, Hermione twisted the doorknob and stepped into the corridor. She padded into the sitting room, and slid her feet into the pinching heeled shoes she tried to avoid at all costs.

Ron held her wrap out and Hermione let him drape it over her shoulders. His lips brushed over her bare shoulder. 'You look lovely, hen,' he murmured.

'Thanks, Ron.' Hermione smiled tightly.

Ron tipped her chin up with a finger. 'You all right?'

Hermione nodded and tried to smile again. 'Just been a long week,' she told him. 'Shall we? God knows we don't want to miss the rubbery chicken and flaccid vegetables,' she added dryly.

Ron snickered. 'Of course not.' He held out his arm. 'Come on, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back.'

'Sneaking out after the speeches, are we?' Hermione asked, pushing her earlier thoughts to the side.

'Absolutely. So we can come home, and have some real food,' Ron said fervently.

Hermione took a step toward the corridor. 'Mum! We're going!'

Jane appeared in the doorway, cradling Hugo. 'Have fun.'

Ron huffed. 'Yeah, right… We'll be home in a couple of hours. Three, tops.' He led Hermione to the front door, and they Apparated to the Atrium of the Ministry.

*****

Harry helped Ginny into a chair. 'You look fine,' he said, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, rolling his eyes.

'I saw that,' Ginny muttered. 'You're biased.' She picked up her water goblet and sipped it.

'I keep telling you, it doesn't matter if your bum is the size of Brazil, I'll still love you.' Harry folded himself into the chair next to Ginny. 'And I happen to like curvy women.'

Ginny choked on the sip of water, and glared at Harry, her eyes watering. 'Well, this is about as curvy as it gets,' she sighed, flexing her toes.

'Want to go home?'

'You have got to be joking!' Ginny exclaimed. 'I spent an hour trying on dresses before I found one that didn't make me look like I was wearing a circus tent. Then had to suffer the indignity of going to Madam Malkin's for bloody shoes that look like the ones Aunt Muriel wears! And it took me two hours to look this good. I am going to stay here, with my swollen feet, and poke at the inedible meal, listen to an arse-numbingly boring speech, then go home and eat some real food.'

'Hear, hear!' Ron set a glass of lemonade in front of Ginny and sat down. 'I put a ham sandwich in Hermione's bag for you,' he informed his sister.

'Oh, thank you!' Ginny breathed. 'Hand it over right now, there's a good boy.'

Ron dug into Hermione's handbag. 'I'm not five,' he muttered, passing Ginny the sandwich all the same.

'Never said you were,' Ginny assured him, biting blissfully into the sandwich.

*****

_Shouldn't have eaten that sandwich so fast…_ Ginny mused, pacing the length of the kitchen, rubbing her chest fretfully. _Lily doesn't seem to like it as much as I did…_ 'Your Uncle Ron's ham sandwiches are delicious, little girl,' Ginny said aloud. 'You should be grateful he brought it, otherwise, we would have had to suffer with that awful chicken.'

Ginny stopped and rested her elbows on the back of Harry's chair at the table. Pain sliced through her, making her blood still. _That's not heartburn…_ She slowly straightened and resumed her careful circuit of the kitchen. 'Okay, Lily, we are _not_ having a repeat of what happened with your big brother. You are _not_ coming early,' she ordered. Gritting her teeth, she added, 'You have to listen to me because I'm your motheeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!' she groaned. Panting, Ginny blindly groped for one of the chairs that ringed the scrubbed wooden table. Hanging on to it for all she was worth, she reminded herself to take slow, deep breaths. _Okay, Weasley, it's nothing… It's just the chicken…_ The pain intensified. 'I don't think this is the chicken, Lily…' Her grip around the back of the chair tightened. _I don't think I can make it up the stairs…_ 'Harry!' she shouted. 'Harry, help me…!'


	14. Between Two Waves Of the Sea

Ginny opened her eyes, expecting to see James standing next to the bed, his wide blue eyes, narrowed in annoyance, because Albus needed his nappy changed. Instead she saw Harry, still in his dinner jacket, the tie undone, sprawled in the hard, straight-backed chair next to a bed in St. Mungo's. He was asleep, with his glasses askew on his nose. She wearily closed her eyes once more, as vague memories of Harry bursting through the kitchen door, stopping long enough to pick her up, before he Apparated them both to the hospital.

One of her hands crept up and spread over her abdomen. She nearly heaved a sigh of relief to discover she had not, in fact, delivered Lily last night. _That would be something you'd remember, you silly bint_, she thought. But if she thought about it, she didn't remember much about delivering Albus, actually. Just random images. She gently pressed the heel of her hand inward and tears pricked behind her eyelids when Lily nudged her palm.

Ginny heard Harry stir and turned her head on the pillow. He was waking up, rubbing his fingertips over his eyes. 'What happened?' she asked hoarsely.

Harry settled his glasses over his nose. 'Not sure,' he mumbled. 'We left the ball early, because you weren't feeling well. You blamed Ron and his sandwich. He took exception to that.'

'Of course he did,' Ginny murmured.

'So we came home, and Andromeda told you to get some plain biscuits for your heartburn – said it worked for her when she was carrying Tonks – and while she was getting her things together to go home, you went into the kitchen, and I went upstairs to check on the boys. Then all of a sudden, you started screaming.

'You just looked awful, so I brought you here. As soon as we got here they took one look at you, and whisked you away back here. Left me in the waiting area until nearly midnight.' Harry leaned forward and stroked Ginny's hair away from her face, giving her a watery sort of smile. 'You scared me,' he said softly.

There was a brief knock on the door. 'Good morning,' Shanti chimed as she walked into the room. She crossed to Ginny's bed and checked a nasty-looking green potion dripping from a bottle suspended over Ginny's bed into a tube that was Spellotaped to the inside of her left arm. 'You gave us quite a scare last night,' she told Ginny. 'You were having contractions, and it was touch-and-go for a while whether or not we could stop them.'

'But I had heartburn…' Ginny struggled to sit up, but Shanti laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. 'Wait… Those were real…? That wasn't just false labor…?'

'It's all right. We stopped it, and Lily seems to be fine. As are you.' Shanti tugged the sheet covering Ginny, and circled her wand over Ginny's navel. The sound of Lily's heartbeat filled the tense, quiet room. Shanti waved her wand at a chair in the corner of the room, and it slid across the floor, coming to a stop next to the bed. Shanti dropped into it, and eyed Ginny. 'We need to talk.'

'Okay…' Ginny clutched the edge of the sheet.

'You need to start your leave now. You will be on restricted activity from now until the day you give birth.'

'What does that mean?' Ginny's brows drew together in a frown.

'No working, unless you can do it all from home. No Flooing by yourself. No Apparition by yourself. No heavy lifting or cleaning, if you're one of those who like to do it without magic. No standing for prolonged periods of time. No picking up James or Albus.' Shanti glanced at Harry, who was listening to this litany of activites Ginny could and could not do with a raised brow. 'No sex.'

'Do I have to stay in bed all the time?' Ginny asked in revulsion.

'No. You can shower or have a bath. You can go to your family's Sunday lunch. You can take care of the boys, within limits. You just need to do less than what you're doing now.' Shanti made a note on Ginny's file. 'If you have contractions, I want you back here immediately. You're far enough along where there shouldn't be any issues with Lily coming before her due date. But the longer she stays in there, the better it will be.'

'Okay.' Ginny blew out a shaky breath.

'Good.' Shanti stood up, and set the chair against the wall. 'I want you to stay here for a few days, just to keep an eye on the two of you. I'll be back later.'

After she left Ginny glanced at Harry. 'So if you're here, who's with the boys?'

'Andromeda stayed with them. She yelled at me as I barreled through the door that she'd watch them.' Harry watched Ginny squirm a little, trying to find a more comfortable position. 'Want to sit up a little?'

'Yeah.'

Harry searched through a cupboard until the found a couple of extra pillows, and returned to the bed, sliding one arm behind Ginny and eased her up just enough until he could stuff the pillows behind her back. 'Better?'

'Much.' Ginny reached up and traced the lines of Harry's face, her fingers rubbing against the stubble sprouting along his jaw. 'Thank you.'

Harry kissed the tip of Ginny's nose. 'What was I supposed to do? Leave you lying on the kitchen floor, writhing in pain?' he snorted. He fell back into the chair and propped his elbows on the mattress, resting his chin in upturned palms. 'I, uh, talked to Shanti last night,' he began hesitantly. 'When she stopped to check in on you.'

Ginny's brow rose slightly. 'Did you? About what?'

Harry's cheeks flushed. 'That thing you told me about,' he grumbled.

Ginny's mouth tipped up in a smile. 'I've told you a lot of things,' she teased gently.

'Gin, please…' Harry pushed himself back into the chair. 'That thing,' he mumbled, waving a hand in the general direction of his lap.

'What, shaving your legs?' Ginny thoroughly enjoyed taking the mickey out of Harry. He could be such an easy target sometimes.

'That _thing_,' Harry groaned, dropping a protective hand over his crotch. 'Where they snip…' he added, making a scissoring motion with his free hand.

Ginny sobered immediately. 'What brought this on? You haven't been entirely chuffed about the idea since I brought it up.'

Harry shrugged with one shoulder. 'Lots of things.' He ran his hand through his untidy hair. 'It's just time…' he mumbled.

'Oh.' Ginny examined her fingernails, rubbing the jagged edge of one of them with her thumb. 'Are you sure? I mean, it's fairly permanent.'

'I'm sure.' Harry stretched his feet out. 'Why? Have you changed your mind about not having any more?'

'No,' Ginny declared emphatically. 'I don't think I can handle any more excitement like this.'

'I'll make an appointment soon. Get it done and over with.'

'You ought to go home in a bit. Have a nice shower and get out of the finery. Let Andromeda go home, too.'

'Are you sure?' Harry asked doubtfully.

'Yeah, we'll be fine. They'll let you know if anything happens. You should be home when the boys wake up.'

'Right…' Harry stretched, then bent to kiss Ginny. 'I'll be back later, all right?'

'We'll be here.'

Harry smiled and turned his head to press a kiss to Ginny's abdomen. 'See you later, Lils,' he murmured. 'Take care of your mum, eh?'

*****

Hermione pushed the shower curtain aside. The sight of Ron perched on the counter startled her. 'Ahhh!' She attempted to spin around and grab for a towel, but her feet slipped in the wet bathtub and she pitched forward, hands grabbing at empty air.

Ron slid off the counter and caught Hermione before she could fall over the edge of the bathtub. 'I know I'm not much to look at, hen, but I didn't think I was that frightening first thing in the morning.' His long arm snaked around her head, and he snagged a towel from the shelf behind the bathtub, shaking it out and wrapping it around her shoulders.

'Just wasn't expecting to see you there,' Hermione muttered, firmly holding the towel around her body.

'Why?' Ron asked simply.

'You mean other than the fact I locked the door?' Hermione asked sarcastically.

'I mastered ­_Alohamora_ a long time ago, Hermione,' he snorted.

Hermione reached for her dressing gown and pulled it on with her back to Ron. Knotting the sash firmly around her waist, she turned back to Ron. 'I didn't want you in here.'

'Why?' Ron was genuinely confused. He and Hermione had never had issues being naked around each other. They hardly ever kept the other out of the bathroom like that.

'I just don't want you to look at me.' Hermione stalked out of the bathroom and went into their bedroom, Ron trailing after her. 'Oh, for God's sake, will you just leave me alone?'

'No.' Ron's hand closed around her wrist. 'I won't.' He flicked his wand at the small pot of salve, catching it in midair as it zoomed toward him. 'Why won't you use this?' he asked mildly.

'Because,' Hermione ground out between clenched teeth, pulling her wrist from Ron's grip. 'I chose not to.' She jerked a drawer open, looking for clean clothing. 'Bloody hell, when was the last time we did the laundry around here?'

Ron bent and picked up a handful of Hermione's knickers from a basket near the foot of the bed. 'I did some last night. Couldn't sleep.' He tossed them toward Hermione. Crossing his arms over his chest, Ron leaned against the bureau. 'I've spent the last two months thinking,' he mused.

'Don't hurt yourself,' Hermione retorted yanking the knickers on under her dressing gown.

Ron flushed, but refused to rise to Hermione's bait. 'And I've gone over everything we did while you were pregnant.'

'So?' She pulled on a pair of jeans, holding her breath to button them.

Ron grasped her wrist once more. 'You didn't do anything wrong,' he insisted, turning her around to face him.

'How do you know?' she said darkly. 'You can't just say it's one of those things.'

'Yes, I can!' Ron hissed. 'You can't always find answers for things or explain why things happen!' he added hotly. 'Sometimes they just do!'

Rose's voice interrupted whatever Hermione was going to say. 'Mummmeeee! Daaaadddeeee! Hung'y!'

'I'll get her,' Hermione muttered tightly, tugging on her wrist.

'Stop punishing yourself,' Ron said softly.

'I will when you will,' Hermione countered. She gave her wrist one final tug before striding toward Rose's room. She heard Ron return to the bathroom and quietly close the door, when she knew he wanted to slam the door. 'Hey, Rosie.'

'Hi, Mummy.'

'Ready for breakfast?'

'Uh-huh,' Rose replied, nodding vigorously. She held up her arms, waiting for Hermione to lift her from the cot.

Hermione swung Rose into her arms, and rubbed her nose against Rose's crinkled one. 'Want to share a banana with Mummy?'

Rose drew back a bit and gazed at her mother with slightly narrowed eyes, considering the offer. 'Okay,' she said reluctantly.

'Let me go put a shirt on, and we'll get that banana, all right?'

'Okay.'

Hermione carried Rose into her bedroom and dropped her in the middle of the unmade bed, making the little girl giggle as she bounced a few times. She dug through the basket of laundry and found a shirt that didn't have any noticeable stains. She held it up and examined it. 'Not bad,' she told Rose. 'Normally if your daddy does the laundry it comes out with odd spots.' She slid her arms into the sleeves and began to do up the buttons. 'I think he does purposely,' she continued, 'just to get out of doing it in the first place.' Hermione scooped up Rose from the bed and began to walk into the kitchen. 'But he does most of the cooking around here, so I can't complain, really. He's much better at it than I am. Never could quite get the hang of it. I was total rubbish at cooking for ages. Not that I'd ever admit that, of course…' She set Rose in her high chair, and Summoned a banana from the bunch on the counter. She dug out a knife and sliced half of the banana onto the tray of Rose' high chair. 'In fact, I've never been one to readily admit I was wrong about something.'

Rose didn't say anything as she delicately picked up a banana slice and dropped it into her mouth.

'It's silly,' Hermione continued, taking a bite of her half of the banana. 'I shouldn't be taking this so hard. I keep telling myself I've got you and Hugo and I know the last thing your father wanted was a large family. I just wish I could stop wondering "what if"…'

*****

Harry wearily let himself into the house, wincing slightly at the racket coming from the kitchen. James was screeching at Albus for looking at his grapes. James dashed into the sitting room, making a beeline for his father, wrapping his arms around Harry's knees. 'Hiya, Sam,' Harry said, surprising himself.

'I'm no' Sam. I'm Jemmy,' James stated.

Harry bent and picked up James, accepting his sticky kiss. 'You used to be Sam. When you were still in Mummy's tummy,' he explained. He hadn't called James "Sam" since he was born. 'Like that book with the green eggs.'

'Where's Mummy?' James asked, swinging his feet slightly, his toes drumming lightly against Harry's stomach.

'At the hospital, mate,' Harry said. 'She didn't feel very well last night.'

'Wanna see Mummy!' James demanded.

'Maybe later,' Harry grunted, rubbing a hand over James' head, attempting to smooth it, even though he knew it was futile.

Andromeda appeared in the doorway, her light brown hair loose around her shoulders, wiping her hands on a tea towel she'd tucked into the waistband of her skirt. 'How's Ginny?'

Harry took James back into the kitchen and deposited him into his chair, where he resumed inhaling his abandoned breakfast. 'She's fine. She'll be home in a couple of days.'

'Want some breakfast?'

Harry gazed at the table, rubbing his hand over his stubbly jaw. 'Not right now, but could you stay a bit longer? I'd like to have a quick shower…'

'Aren't you going to the Burrow later?' Andromeda picked up a cup of tea from the counter, and took a sip.

'I was planning on it,' Harry said slowly, reaching over his head for a cup, and pouring tea from the pot at Andromeda's elbow into it.

'So was I. I meant to stay and help you get James and Albus dressed and over there.'

'Thanks.' Harry wrapped his hands around the cup, inhaling the steam.

Andromeda scrutinized him for a long moment. 'Remus used to do that,' she said suddenly. 'When he'd been gone all night for the Order.' She pressed her lips together and averted her eyes, glancing at Teddy. Ever since the memorial dedication at Hogwarts, he'd been somewhat touchy about hearing about his parents.

Harry caught the expression on Andromeda's face. 'Remus was always one for tea. When he wasn't pushing chocolate on you,' he said casually, giving Teddy a quick look from the corner of his eye. Teddy's hair color rippled through a gamut of hues, before settling back into his normal turquoise. Harry touched the back of Anromeda's hand gently. 'It's okay to talk about them,' he said softly. 'Trust me. He wants to hear it, even if he's not acting like it.' He rolled his head around on his neck, smiling a little in bliss as it popped several times. 'Can I beg one more thing of you?'

'Of course.'

'Do you mind handling things down here a bit longer? I need a bit of a kip. That chair in Ginny's room isn't great for sleeping.'

'I think I can manage that,' Andromeda said wryly. 'Go on. I'll make sure you're awake in time for lunch.'

'Thanks.' Harry looked down at the cup in his hands, surprised to find it in his hands. He dumped it out in the sink and trudged up the stairs, stripping his dinner jacket off as he walked into his bedroom, and dropped it on the armchair. He slumped to the edge of the bed, and pulled his shoes off. Deciding that undressing any further would take more energy that he had, Harry fell backward across the bed, and managed to lift his feet to the mattress before he fell asleep.

*****

Albus stood in the doorway of his parents' bedroom, his thumb in his mouth, his stuffed hippogriff clutched in his other hand. He toddled into the room, and stood next to the bed, his bright green eyes fixed on his father, head cocked to one side as he listened to the soft snores emanating from Harry's partially-open mouth. Albus removed his thumb with a soft _pop_ and pushed his hippogriff onto the bed with both hands until it was wedged into Harry's ribs. 'Dahdee s'eep,' he whispered loudly to the hippogriff, before he ran out into the corridor, squealing loudly as James jumped out from behind a door at him.

Harry grunted in his sleep as his arm tightened around the hippogriff and rolled over, sprawling over more of the bed. He woke up slowly as a dull ache spread through his chest. 'Wha'…?' He rolled off an inexplicable lump in the mattress only to find the poor abused hippogriff squashed into disproportionate lumps. Rubbing at the epicenter of the ache in his chest, Harry could feel the indentation where the beak had dug into his flesh. He held the stuffed toy in bemusement for a moment and straightened his glasses. Albus took the bloody thing nearly everywhere he went, and had to set it just so on the edge of the bathtub during his evening bath. It was quite a big deal for Albus to offer his beloved hippogriff to someone. Harry took a slow, deep breath and pushed himself into sitting up.

He slid off the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, peeling his clothes off as he walked, leaving them in a trail behind him. A hot shower was his only salvation. No amount of coffee or tea was going to shake this haze.

He stood under the spray, and adjusted the temperature until it was hot enough to sting, but not enough to burn. Last night had terrified him far more than he was willing to admit to anyone. He still had too many vivid memories of the endless hours trying to make sure Albus was warm enough or ate enough, worrying about how much weight he'd gained or lost that week and whether or not he'd stop breathing. Harry didn't think he'd be able to go through all that again. Forcing Ginny to slow down was a small price to pay to buy them more time. Even though she might chafe under the restrictions after a while.

'Harry?' Teddy stood just inside the open bathroom door.

Harry poked his dripping head out of the shower curtain. 'Yeah?'

'Gran says we're going over to Grannie Molly's now. She's goin' to take Albie and James is goin' to Floo w' me,' Teddy said quickly.

'Okay. I'll be right behind you,' Harry said, ducking back into the shower. 'Albie's hippogriff is on the bed,' Harry shouted over the running water. 'Could you take it back down to him?'

'Harry?' Teddy took a step into the bathroom.

'Yeah?' Harry peered around the edge of the curtain.

'Is Ginny goin' to be okay?'

Harry shut the water off, and grabbed a towel. He swathed his hips with it and stepped out of the bathtub and knelt in front of Teddy. 'She's going to be fine,' he said reassuringly to Teddy.

'Is it goin' to be like Albie? When Gran and me couldn't come over for ages…?'

'I hope not,' Harry told his godson. 'That's why they're keeping her at the hospital a bit more, so that doesn't happen again.'

'When is she comin' home?' Teddy sniffed and drew his sleeve under his nose.

'Don't use your sleeve,' Harry automatically said, reaching for the end of the toilet roll, ripping off a strip and handing the wad to Teddy. He brushed Teddy's hair from his eyes. 'She'll be home in a few days.'

'Can I come over when she gets back?'

'Absolutely.'

'Teddy?' Andromeda's voice floated up the stairs. 'We're leaving!'

'Better go, cub,' Harry said, turning Teddy around, and lightly swatting his rear. 'I'll be there in a bit, all right?'

Teddy rubbed his nose with the wad from the toilet roll. 'Okay…'

Harry waited until the roaring sounds of the Floo dissipated before he turned the water back on to complete his shower.

*****

'It feels selfish,' Hermione remarked, folding her arms behind her head.

'What does?' Ron climbed into bed next to Hermione.

'Thinking about it,' she replied quietly. 'Thinking about what we could have had.'

'I know.' Ron shifted so he faced her, and propped his head on an upturned hand.

'Especially since we…' Hermione gestured toward the children's rooms. She blinked rapidly. 'It just makes me feel like such a failure…'

Ron sat up and looked down at her. 'You are not a failure. Even if we never had Rosie and Hugo, you would not be a failure.'

Hermione nodded, and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. She reached over and plucked the small pot from its place on her night table. Wordlessly, she held it out to Ron. He stared at it for a moment, then slowly reached out and took it from her outstretched palm. 'You sure?' he asked hesitantly. At her nod, he unscrewed the lid and carefully set it down on his pillow. He folded the hem of the t-shirt Hermione wore back, exposing her stomach. 'Stop stealing my Cannons shirts,' he chided, scooping out a small dollop on his fingertip. He gently smoothed the salve over the livid scar. 'Does that hurt?' he asked, his voice seemingly small in the still bedroom.

'No.'

Ron's eyes flicked upward to Hermione's face. Her eyes were tightly shut and her she worried her lower lip between her teeth. 'You're lying,' he said without accusation.

Hermione's eyes flew open. 'It doesn't hurt,' she insisted.

'Then why do you look like you're about to cry?' Ron pulled the hem of the t-shirt back down.

'I'm not,' Hermione said shakily. She took the pot from Ron and replaced the lid. 'Thank you,' she added, setting the pot back on her night table.

Ron sat in the middle of the bed for a moment before he clambered off it and circled around the foot, holding his hand out to Hermione. 'Come on, then,' he said.

'What?'

'Come dance with me.'

'But there's no music,' Hermione protested, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet.

Ron wound his arms around Hermione. 'Honestly. "There's no music." Are you a witch or not?'

'You're never going to let me live that down are you?' Hermione sighed. She picked up her wand and flicked it at the Muggle CD player on top of the wardrobe. Soft music began to play.

'Probably not,' Ron chuckled. 'I've been worried about you.'

Hermione stiffened and started to pull away, but Ron's arms tightened around her waist. 'I can tell,' she muttered. 'You've been hovering like a bloody mother hen since we brought Hugo home.' She rested her head against Ron's shoulder. 'I wasn't going to pull a Sylvia Plath, you know,' she grumbled.

'A what?'

'Sylvia Plath,' Hermione repeated. 'Muggle poet who committed suicide by putting her head in the oven.'

'Didn't think you were, hen.' Ron paused for a moment. 'Sounds like a right cheery kind of person, though.'

Hermione's hand wound through Ron's. 'I'm going to be all right,' she told him. 'It's just going to take time…'

*****

a/n: A long time ago, one of my college professors made my class memorize part of _Four Quartets_ by T.S. Eliot for an assignment. The title comes from one of the lines in the section we used.


	15. Bouquet

'Mummy!' James stood next to Ginny's side of the bed, his wide blue eyes narrowed in indignation.

Ginny cracked an eyelid and took a deep breath. 'What are you doing up?'

'Albie smells,' James pronounced.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut as she yawned widely. 'What were you doing in Albus' room?' she mumbled drowsily.

James held out his stuffed black dog. 'Lef' Snuffs in there,' he explained matter-of-factly.

'Okay, sweetie… Just give Mummy a moment…' Ginny slowly pushed herself into sitting and lowered her feet to the floor.

James began to tug at her hand. 'Where's Daddy?'

'He's at work, baby,' Ginny murmured, as she heaved herself to her feet, snagging her dressing gown from the foot of the bed. She clumsily pushed her arms into the sleeves and waddled toward Albus' room. She automatically reached into the cot to lift a whimpering Albus out, but as her hands grasped him, she remembered. She wasn't supposed to pick up either of the boys. 'Damn, how am I going to do this?' She chewed her lip thoughtfully, eyeing James. _He could fetch my wand from the night table… Oh, don't be ridiculous, Weasley! The last time he got his grubby little hands on someone's wand, he turned Percy's hair fuchsia and Vanished Charlie's trousers. It was Bill's fault for leaving it where Jemmy could get to it anyway…_

'Mummmmmmeeeee!' James whined, his small, round face crinkled against the aroma emanating from his younger brother.

'Right.' Ginny rubbed her face and shuffled back to her bedroom, and picked up her wand. 'I hope this works…' She returned to Albus' room and stood next to the cot, looking down at her son. 'Please, when you get older, and you can't bring yourself to get on a broomstick, don't hold this against me…' She flicked her wand at Albus, Levitating him out of the cot and over to the changing table. She looked at the small clock on the wall over the table and felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. It was well after midnight, and Harry should have been home already. She unpinned Albus' nappy and draped a clean one over him, flicking his nose with the edge, making him giggle sleepily. 'Let's get you all sorted, my fuzzy bunny,' she crooned softly, running a hand over his shock of messy black hair. 'And then back to bed with you.'

It took no small amount of maneuvering around her girth to ease the soiled nappy from under Albus and swap it for a clean one. With an internal apology, she flicked her wand at Albus, and he rose off the changing table and floated to his cot. When he was back inside, burrowing into his favorite bum-up sleeping position, Ginny tucked the light blanket over him. She didn't know why she bothered. When they came to dress him for the day, it was usually draped neatly over the top rail of the cot. The first time Ginny had seen it, she'd asked Harry if he'd done it. He looked confused and said no, that he had thought _she_ had done it.

Ginny turned away from the cot, to find James standing in the doorway, watching her, his index finger in his mouth. 'Come on, then,' she said quietly. 'Go back to bed.'

James' brows drew together in a pout. 'I wanna fly.'

'Fine…' Ginny didn't feel up to circumventing James' innate stubbornness. She just wanted to go back to bed. She nudged him in the back. 'Go to your room, and Mummy will fly you into bed, okay? Okay.' She slowly followed James across the corridor and joined him where he stood, fairly wriggling with impatience, just inside his bedroom door. She flicked her wand at James and he rose into the air several inches, then she directed her wand toward his bed and James gently floated into. Ginny drew the sheet and light blanket over James. She braced one hand on the mattress, and leaned over, praying she didn't slip and fall. 'Night, Jemmy,' she murmured, kissing his forehead.

'Nigh', Mummy,' he yawned. Ginny gradually straightened and tucked the blanket around James. She left the room, and partially closed the door, intending to return to bed herself when a rustling noise from downstairs made her stop. The rustling noise was followed by a muffled _thump_ and a stifled curse. Curious, she made her way down the stairs, her grip tightening around the handle of her wand. Ginny peered around the corner, pressing her lips together in an effort to hold back the giggles that bubbled to the surface.

Harry was struggling with a blanket tangled around his legs, sprawled on the floor next to the sofa.

Ginny lumbered to the sofa and leaned a hip against one of the arms. 'How long have you been home?'

'Half an hour,' he muttered.

'Why didn't you come up to bed?'

'Didn't want to wake you up.' He gave the blanket an almighty jerk, freeing it from his legs, but slammed his elbow into the coffee table, making the collection of empty lager bottles rattle. 'Ow! Bloody, damn furniture!'

'Shhh!' Ginny cautioned. 'You'll wake the boys.' She gave the table a quick glance. 'How many have you had?' she asked, giving the air over Harry a cautious sniff.

'I should have stayed in the flat over the shop…' Harry stopped rubbing his elbow and hoisted himself back into the sofa, attempting to drape the blanket over his denim-clad legs. It kept dragging against the folds around his knees.

Ginny's lips thinned. 'I'm not here to bust your balls,' she told him. 'Not after what you had to do today.' They rarely mentioned his probation days by name, preferring to circumspectly speak about it, using innuendo and roundabout conversation.

Harry sat up and grabbed Ginny's hand, guiding her around the end of the sofa. 'Sit down with me…' He pulled her down, settling her between his knees. 'Talk to me… Tell me something normal. Something that will send someone who doesn't have children into spasms of boredom.'

'Oh… All right…' Ginny rested her head against his shoulder, wrinkling her nose at the sharp scent of lager on Harry's breath. 'I let Albus have an iced lolly after lunch today. A cherry one. It melted before he could eat more than half of it. It was everywhere. In his hair, all over his clothes. Had to give him a good bath before I put him down for his nap this afternoon.'

'Hmm.' Harry's head gently bumped the back of Ginny's. 'Iced lollies are good,' he snickered tipsily.

'James is going to have a lovely career as a petty thief if the magic thing doesn't work out.'

'How's that…?'

'Little bugger snuck down from his bedroom into the kitchen. I was sort of dozing on the sofa and he came down the stairs without making a bloody sound. I heard a crash in the kitchen, and by the time I was able to heave my large bum off the sofa, he'd already eaten half the Chocolate Frogs and was working his way through the box of Every Flavor Beans.

'Ah. Good to have a backup.'

'I just levitated Albie from his cot to the changing table.' Ginny settled back against Harry's chest.

'Really…?'

'Yeah. If he's terrified of brooms later, you can blame me…'

'Why would you do something like that?'

Ginny snorted. 'Oh, no reason. Except your son woke me up to inform me his younger brother was in need of a nappy change.'

'_My_ son, eh? Because of the Chocolate Frog liberation or waking you up?'

'Waking me up. And I can't lift Albus out of the cot, and Merlin knows I can't lean over the cot to change him anymore. He seemed to like it.'

'Why was James up in the first place?'

'Oh, well… He said he left his dog in Albus' room, but I think he was just awake and playing. Ron used to do that… He'd wake up and find something to play with in my room. I think because my things were somewhat newer and hadn't been passed down from Bill to Charlie to Percy then to the twins. She thought later, he just wanted some playtime without George, Fred, or me. Mum said Charlie used to do it all the time. Especially after the twins were born. She'd come down in the morning, and find him asleep on the sitting room floor, surrounded by crayons and paper…'

'At least he's not gone in that direction yet.' Harry's arms wrapped around Ginny.

Ginny didn't say anything for a while, wondering if she stopped talking, if Harry would fall asleep. She felt his hand twitch slightly against her thigh. 'Are you sleeping?'

'Mmmmm. Hm a'ke…' he grunted.

'Good night, Harry.' Ginny reached back and gently touched his cheek.

Harry inhaled slowly. 'Night, Gin…' he mumbled.

*****

'This is ridiculous,' Hermione whispered, handing Rose her toy broom.

'You never slept with all your toys?' Ron shot back incredulously.

'Well, there was that phase where I had to sleep with all my stuffed animals tucked in with me.' Hermione mock-shuddered. 'My dad read ­­_Peter Rabbit_ to me. Farmer MacGregor and his pitchfork terrified me. I had dreams where I was hiding in a watering can and MacGregor was waving his pitchfork at me. I thought I'd blend in with the stuffed animals…'

Ron dropped the stuffed Quaffle into the cot. 'Yeah, that's one reason…'

'Why? Did you do it?'

'Sometimes. Didn't have much, and I didn't want Fred or George to get their grubby paws on what I did have.'

'Oh, sure. Because after that teddy incident, I'd be leery of letting either of them within a ten-foot radius of my toys…'

Ron scowled at Hermione. 'That's not funny,' he said loftily. 'That teddy bear was the first new thing I ever had.' He gazed down at his daughter, bouncing slightly in impatience. 'Is that enough, Rosie?'

'No.' Rosie stood with her arms outstretched over the top rail of her cot. 'Nee' dra'on, uni'orn, an' Croo'shan's.'

Hermione rested her forearms across the top of the cot. 'Oh, really?'

Rose nodded vigorously. 'So Yugo doesn' get 'em.'

Hermione rested her forehead against Rose's. 'Hugo's too little for your toys, Rose-bud.'

Rose reached for the unicorn Ron held out and hugged it to her chest. 'I's mine,' she proclaimed.

Ron looked around the room. 'Have you seen Crookshanks tonight?'

Hermione glanced up at Ron. 'He was in the bathroom with Rose and me when she was taking her bath.'

'That was two hours ago,' Ron pointed out.

'True, but Crookshanks likes the bathroom. The bathmat is his new sleep spot.'

Ron shook his head. 'Your cat, dear. I swear, he gets weirder and weirder as he gets older, though.'

'He's just got quirks,' Hermione sniffed. 'Just like you and Rosie.'

Ron settled Rose in the cot and waited for her to arrange the menagerie of assorted stuffed animals and toys before he draped a blanket over her. 'Night, Rose-bud,' he murmured.

'Nigh', Daddy. Nigh', Mummy…' Rose yawned and rolled over, clutching the unicorn in one hand.

'Good night, Rosie.' Hermione kissed the spot just under Rose's ear. She followed Ron out of the room, and peered into Hugo's on the way into their bedroom. 'And speaking of quirks,' she muttered, gesturing toward the cot. Ron's eyes followed her hand and he sighed heavily. Hugo was sleepily sucking the toes of one of his feet.

Ron's head cocked to one side. 'How does he do that…?'

'No idea. But he seems to like it.'

All of a sudden, Hugo began to coo and a rumbling sound met their ears. 'I think we've found Crookshanks,' Ron whispered. He tiptoed into the room, and found Crookshanks curled up at Hugo's feet, occasionally rubbing the top of his fluffy ginger head against the baby, his eyes closed to slits as he purred loudly.

'Should we leave him in there?' Hermione asked worriedly.

Ron reached into the cot and scratched the old cat under the chin. 'Yeah, it'll be all right.'

'Says the man who couldn't stand Crookshanks at first.'

'Yeah, well, I was young and quite stupid then, wasn't I?'

'Just a bit.' Hermione eased out of the room and padded into their bedroom. She flopped across the bed, groaning as her body relaxed into the mattress. 'Whoever said raising children wasn't a full-time job ought to spend the day with our two. Or the twins.'

'Which set? Fred and Jacob or Alex and Nicky?' Ron plopped next to Hermione.

'Fred and Jacob. Undoubtedly. Alex and Nicky just turn on that Veela charm they inherited from Fleur after they've destroyed something and you can't help but melt a little.'

'Blimey, just throw in James and Albus and you've got a zoo,' Ron chuckled.

Hermione was silent for a long moment. 'I ought to change into something else to sleep in, or take this off,' she commented. 'I'm too tired to move.' Ron didn't reply. 'Ron?' He snorted softly and Hermione picked her head up enough to peer down at him. He was sound asleep. She let her head fall back against the mattress, and gave in to the gentle tugs of slumber that pulled her down into its currents.

*****

Ginny shifted slightly on the sofa and sighed. Harry didn't look up from the newspaper he was reading in the temporary lull in the madness that was the Potter house once the boys were put to bed. She shifted and sighed again. Loudly. Harry glanced up at her over the rims of his glasses. 'All right?' he asked, a faint expression of worry darkening his features, fingers tightening on the edges of the newspaper. Every grunt or hitched breath from Ginny left him slightly more anxious each time.

'I'm bored,' Ginny muttered.

Harry gazed pointedly at the pile of knitting in Ginny's lap. 'I thought you were trying to get a start on Christmas mittens for the boys and me.'

Ginny's lip curled in a moue of distaste. 'Not all bloody day,' she grumbled. 'And I can't concentrate on it very well… I can't even remember what I had for lunch today.'

'It's just a few more weeks,' Harry said sympathetically. 'At least you weren't told to stay in bed the entire time.'

'I'm just not used to this,' Ginny complained. 'All this enforced inactivity.'

Harry smirked and turned a page of his paper. 'Enjoy it while you can.'

Ginny picked up her knitting with a snort. 'I _hate_ it when people say that,' she grumbled. 'Enjoy being able to have a lie-in,' she mimicked. 'After the baby comes, you won't have a moment to yourself.' She glared at Harry. 'That Mrs. Collins at the post office ought to mind her own business.'

'She can't help herself,' Harry commented. 'She's old and lonely.

'That doesn't give her the right to say things like that,' Ginny huffed. 'You got something from Dudley, by the way.'

'Oh, that's nice…' Harry squinted at the Quidditch scores. 'How does Chudley manage to keep a team?' As Ginny's words sank in, he did a double take. 'When did you go to the post office?'

'This afternoon.'

Harry gave Ginny an odd look. 'But they bring the Muggle post here…'

'What?'

'You said you went to the post office.'

'No, I went to the owl post office.'

'But you said I got something from Dudley.'

'Yeah, this morning, when the post comes…'

'So why did you use the owl post…? Why didn't you use Ariel?'

Ginny glowered. 'Do you know how hard it is to write an article about the evolution of Quidditch with a four-year old and a two-year old who can't stand the sight of each other, and a baby who seems to think your bladder is there for the sole purpose for her to bounce upon it?'

'Um. No. But that doesn't answer why you went into the village to the owl post.'

Ginny let her head drop against the back of the sofa. 'Because,' she began, with an air of forced patience, 'the article was due at three, and it was noon, and I needed an express owl.'

'Oh. All right, then.' Harry resumed his perusal of the Quidditch page of the _Daily Prophet_. 'Did you open it?' he asked, in a tone that was nearly painful in its casualness.

'Open what?'

'The letter from Dudley.'

'No. It's your post.'

'It's just odd,' Harry mused, carefully folding the paper. 'He never sends something unless it's Christmas.'

'Maybe something happened,' suggested Ginny, picked up her knitting once more. When Harry remained on the sofa, she nudged him with the back of her hand. 'Aren't you going to go get it off the table?'

'Maybe later.' His eyes flicked toward the table by the front door.

Ginny didn't miss it. She tucked the small scarf she was making for James into a basket, and tapped the lid with her wand, to keep the boys out of it. 'I'm going to go to bed,' she said lightly.

'Yeah, I'll be up in a bit…' Harry waited until Ginny's steps footfalls on the stairs faded until he darted to the table and picked up the waiting letter.

_20 July 2008_

_Dear Harry,_

_Your birthday's coming up, isn't it? I hope you have a nice time. _

_I know this isn't the usual time we send cards to each other, but I need to tell you something._

_I sort of met someone… Not sort of, I did. A couple of months ago. In the park while I was running. I wasn't paying attention where I was going and sort of ran him over._

Harry frowned slightly. _Did I read that correctly?_ He scanned the line again. _I suppose I did…_

_His name is Aaron. He's really nice. He's brilliant. He's a lawyer. And yes, you've read that correctly. That was my oh-so-clever way of telling you that I'm a homosexual. There. I've said it. And if you're still reading this, you're doing loads better than my parents. Dad went all purple and Mum fainted. It was quite a scene. Oh, and Aunt Marge was there. Not only did __she__ go purple (And it was truly frightening to realize she looks just like Dad, but without the enormous moustache. Hers is a great deal smaller.) but she called me more names than I even knew existed._

_I just thought you should know._

_Dudley_

Harry carefully refolded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. He stared at it a moment, then quietly slid off the sofa and went into the small office. He walked to his desk, and pulled out a drawer. His fingers skimmed over a small pile of brightly colored envelopes, and he slid the letter underneath the last one.

*****

Harry dashed inside the house. It had taken longer than he'd thought to drop the boys off at the Burrow than he'd anticipated. They had only a few minutes to get to St. Mungo's for Ginny's checkup with Shanti. 'Ginny! I'm back! Are you ready?'

Silence.

'Ginny?'

Silence.

'Ginny, come on! We're going to be late!'

Silence.

Harry sprinted up the stairs and found Ginny still sitting on the bed, her face white. 'Gin, are you okay?'

'Yeah…' Ginny looked up at Harry, wide-eyed. 'I think she's coming…'

'Who?'

'Lily…'

'What, now?'

'Yeah…' Ginny's face scrunched in a grimace.

'Oh, well… Let me get you some clothes. I left the clean laundry downstairs last night. Then we can get to the hospital…' Harry started to leave the bedroom.

'Harry!'

'What?'

'When I said she was coming, I meant she was coming. Now.'

'Like right now?'

Ginny's fingers tightened around the pillow she was clutching. 'Does the phrase, "I really want to push" mean anything to you? We don't have time!'

Harry's mouth dropped open. 'Okay. Okay. Okay. Don't panic!'

'Erm, I'm not the one panicking,' Ginny pointed out. She inhaled sharply, one hand pressed the side of her abdomen.

'What are we supposed to do?' Harry asked

'Deliver the baby.'

Harry stared at her. 'Have you lost your bleeding mind?' he yelled. 'What in the hell am I supposed to know about delivering babies?'

Ginny growled low in her throat. 'You mean they didn't teach you that in that Auror training program of yours?'

'It didn't come up.' Harry stared at Ginny for a moment. 'Don't _you_ know what to do?!?'

Ginny slowly blew out a breath. 'I was a little busy the last two times I did this to pay much attention to what was going on at the other end… Seriously, Harry… Now!'

Harry ran his hands through his hair. 'Right. Erm… Don't go anywhere…' He clattered out of the bedroom and ran down the stairs.

'Wasn't planning on it,' Ginny muttered, panting. It was getting extremely difficult for her to resist the urge to push.

Harry ran back into the room, his arms piled high with books. 'Can you slow things down a little bit?'

'Yeah, I'll see what I can do,' Ginny said dryly. 'But you'll have to take it up with Lily.'

'One of these damn books ought to tell me what to do…' Harry muttered, leafing through the first book in the pile. He hurriedly glanced up at Ginny. 'What if…?'

'Don't say it!' Ginny snarled. 'Nothing is going to go wrong!'

Harry blinked and frantically resumed flipped through the pages of a book, then discarding it carelessly to the floor when it didn't have the information he needed. He went through several books, one eye watching Ginny's pained expression until he struck gold. 'All right, I think I found something. Hang on.' Harry dropped the book, and darted into the bathroom, returning with every towel he could grab off the shelves.

He clambered up on the bed, kneeling in front of Ginny. 'Erm, I think I have to…' His hands hovered over the hem of her nightdress that was rucked up halfway up her thighs.

Ginny's teeth clenched together. 'I really don't care what you need to do right now, as long as you tell me I can bloody push now!' She suddenly barked in ironic laughter. 'It's not the first time you've been in this position, you know.'

'Yeah, but not on this end,' Harry muttered.

He took a deep breath and jabbed his wand at the book he'd left on the foot of the bed, making it levitate so it hovered at his eye level, then muttered, '_Tergeo_,' pointing his wand at his hands. 'Here goes nothing…' Harry shoved the hem of Ginny's nightdress higher up her thighs. 'Oh my God…' he whispered reverently.

'What?' Ginny stared at the top of his head. 'What?!?'

Harry met Ginny's gaze and smiled widely. 'I can see her head…' He snuck a quick peek at the book floating near his head. 'Books says to push the next time you have a contraction.'

'Brilliant…' Ginny hissed, as she lunged forward. She blindly reached out and latched onto the first thing her fingers could touch.

Harry began to yelp as Ginny's fingers twined in his hair and _pulled_. 'Owowowowow! Gin, let go… I can't see anything down here!'

'Sorry,' she breathed, releasing her grip.

Harry blinked several times to clear the stars from his vision, and cupped one hand under Lily's head. He gently laid his other hand on her head, so it was cradled between his hands. 'She's got red hair!' he crowed. 'I think. You can't really tell right now…'

'That's nice,' Ginny commented breathlessly.

In the space between contractions, Harry grabbed a towel, and used the edge to swab downward over Lily's nose and mouth. She didn't look happy. He supposed he couldn't blame her, really. He shifted one hand to Lily's shoulder and within a few more minutes, she was out, squalling like a scalded cat, in short, angry bursts of wailing. He laid Lily on Ginny's chest, using one hand to hold her, while he reached for another towel. He quickly dried the baby, draping yet another clean, dry towel over her.

'It is red,' Ginny said hoarsely, stroking a fingertip over the flaming dusting of hair sprinkled over Lily's small head.

'She's beautiful,' Harry murmured, sitting back on his heels, beaming down at Ginny. He pulled his wand from his pocket and with one more glance at Ginny nuzzling Lily, he swept his wand in an expansive arc, and grinned as the stag rocketed from the tip and disappeared.

'What was that for?'

'To tell your mum. And I asked her to try and send someone over to check over you and… Lily.' He shook his head a little. 'I can't believe she's here. I mean, we've talked about her as Lily and now she's really Lily.' He shifted carefully, so as not to jar Ginny and eased next to her.

Ginny turned her head and pressed a kiss to Harry's shoulder. 'Thank you.'

'For what?'

'For not panicking…'

Harry chuckled softly and rested a hand on Lily's back. 'I thought I was going to pass out.'

'You did a great job of hiding it.'

'Story of my life…' Harry traced the outline of the delicate ear exposed by the turned-down edge of the yellow towel. 'She looks like your mum in that photo of her with her brothers.'

'Finally got one with my hair,' Ginny said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Harry slowly exhaled and closed his eyes briefly, listening to the extraordinary stillness around them. 'Do you hear it?' he asked quietly.

'Hear what?' Ginny turned her head on the stacked-up pillows to gaze sleepily at Harry.

'Exactly,' he told her, just as they heard the back door bang open and Molly's anxious voice called up to them.

*****

Dim light spilled across the room. Ginny cradled Lily, watching her sleep, her rosebud lips smacking with repletion. The cool late September breeze wafted through the room, making the gauzy curtains bellow, sending hazy shadows over the sleeping forest on the walls of Lily's nursery.

Ginny let her eyes wander over the scene surrounding the two of them. All the creatures Dean had painted were various stages of repose, curled up against the night.

All but one.

The doe stood over Lily's cot, her large, soft eyes fixed on the rocking chair where Ginny swayed gently with Lily. Ginny noticed it every night when she came in to feed, or otherwise soothe Lily. The doe stood over the cot, her head bent toward Lily.

Ginny shifted Lily, moving her up to her shoulder. 'So, have we ever told you about your grandmother?' she said softly. 'Not your grandmum, the one that comes by all the time, with biscuits and casseroles, but your daddy's mum. Her name was Lily, too…'

Ginny could have sworn the doe winked. But then again, it could have just been the shadows on the playing across the wall.

The End.

*****

A/N: As always, thank you to every one who took the time to read my scribblings and flights of fancy. I hope you've liked it.


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